BIG 

GAME 

FIELDS 

of 

NORTH  AND  SOUTH 


DANIEL  J.  SINGER 


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OF 

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OF  CALIFORNIA 

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BIG  GAME  FIELDS 
OF  AMERICA: 
NORTH  AND  SOUTH 

DANIEL  J.  SINGER 


I'Or    tlicrc.    wlicrc    iiDlliinji'   liad    sliown    a    iininuiii    hcinrc.    apjicaiTd    a    \isii)ii 
of  spolhd    l)lack   and   -old. 


BIG  GAME  FIELDS 
OF  AMERICA 

NORTH   AND   SOUTH 

BY 

DANIEL  J.  SINGER 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS  BY 
THE  AUTHOR  AND  THREE  DRAWINGS 
BY  CHARLES  LIVINGSTON  BULL 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


CorrBiQHT,  1914 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


K- 
^ 


TO 

MY    MOTHER 


«     5235 


PREFACE 

What  I  have  actually  seen  of  wild  life  during 
a  good  many  big  game  hunting  trips  in  North 
and  South  America,  from  Alaska  to  the  equator, 
is  the  theme  of  this  book.  Most  of  the  ac- 
counts were  penciled  in  the  shooting  tent  or 
even  on  moonlit  nights  while  awaiting  some  night 
prowler. 

In  two  chapters  I  have  attempted  to  give  with 
some  exactitude  the  natural  history  of  the  black 
bear  and  the  jaguar,  the  two  animals  which  in 
captivity  and  the  open  I  have  most  carefully 
studied,  but  in  general  my  object  is  to  present  as 
clearly  as  possible  the  human  side  of  the  sport — 
the  greatest  sport  in  the  world. 

If  it  proves  that  I  am  successful  in  taking  my 
reader  with  me,  through  mountains  and  jungle, 
and  if  I  make  of  the  reader  a  convert  to  the  life 
of  the  open,  I  shall  be  glad,  for  I  know  of  noth- 
ing that  gives  so  much  and  asks  so  little  as  nature. 

Daniel  J.  Singee. 

New  York, 

September,  1914. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

The  author  wishes  to  express  his  thanks  to 
Field  and  Stream,  New  York,  for  their  courtesy 
in  permitting  him  to  use  the  photographs  which 
illustrated  such  portions  of  this  book  as  have  ap- 
peared in  Field  and  Stream. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

PAOH 

Hunting  thk  Jaguae  in  South  America.     Pabt  I.    Camps 

IN  THE  British  Guiana  Bush 21 


CHAPTER   II 
HtiNTiNO  THE  Jaguar.    Part  II.    Up  the  Essequibo  Rivee      53 

CHAPTER   III 
Natural  History  of  the  Jaguar 97 

CHAPTER   IV 
The  Prowler  of  the  Night 123 

CHAPTER   V 

First  Trip  to  Mexico.     Part  I.     Over  the  Great  Divide     .     143 

CHAPTER   VI 

First   Trip   to    Mexico.     Part    II.    Hunting   on    the    Rio 

BoNiTO 165 

CHAPTER    VII 

The  American  Black  Bear.    Part  I.    Studying  the  Black 

Bear   in   the    Rockies 183 

13 


14  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   VIII 

PAQB 

The    Americak    Black    Beak.     Pabt    II.    Characteristics, 

Habits  and  Distributiok 301 

CHAPTER   IX 
With  a  Mormok  Guide  Through  the  Sierra  Madres  .        .    218 

CHAPTER   X 
Cougar  Huntiko  in  Sonora 241 

CHAPTER   XI 

Northern    Game    Trails.     Part    I.    Hunting   the    Moose, 

Sheep,  Goat  and  Black  Bear 270 

CHAPTER   XII 

Northern  Game  Trails.    Part  II.  Hunting  Caribou  and 

Grizzlt 315 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

For  there,  where  nothing  had  shown  a  moment  before, 

appeared  a  vision  of  spotted  black  and  gold      .    Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The  outlying  huts   and  houses   on   the   Demerara  dropped 

away 27 

Indians  of  the  Guiana  Bush 2T 

Through    this    palm-strewn    paradise 31 

A  native  thatched  hut .37 

Most  practical  dress  for  the  tropics 43 

Native-bred    jaguar    hounds 47 

We  grouped  ourselves  about  Ranjettan 47 

A   deadly   labaria   snake,    six    feet   in   length      ....  55 

Our    curial    on    the    Essequibo 55 

John   Charley   and  red   deer   fawn 61 

Three  peccaries  of  the  Guiana  Bush 67 

Jack  Haley  and  our  hounds  in  the  savannah  country      .      .  79 

Jack  pulled   up   and   stood   upright   on  his  horse's  back  in 

order  to   get   a  better  view 87 

At   the   edge   of   the   savannah 91 

The  cattle-killer  had  paid  his  debt — many  lives  had  he  asked 

— now   he  had  paid   with  his   own 95 

The  jaguar   (Pells  onca)    is  the  largest  of  all  the  spotted 

cats ....  99 

15 


16       LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

FAOE 

At  first  glance  one  might  mistake  the  jaguar  for  a  heavily 

built  leopard 103 

The  black  markings  of  the  ocelot  are  elongated       .       .       .  109 

From   the   gloom   of  the  big  mora   trees  shot   a  long,   low, 

shadowy  form 122 

It  was  a  silent,  lone  and  dismal  spot 129 

A  handsome,  sleek  young  murderer 135 

A  native  Indian  happened  by  that  day 139 

With  the  pack  train  over  the  Great  Divide  ....  145 

The  first  day  was  devoted  to  getting  meat  for  camp  .      .      .  149 

At  an  early  hour  we  were  off  with  the  hoimds      ....  155 

Some  of  the  younger  members  of  the  tribe 161 

A  few  squaws  were  tanning  deer  hides 161 

I  succeeded  in  getting  a  picture  of  the  old  chief  ....  161 

Scene  on  the  Rio  Bonito 167 

Packing  in  a  white-tail  deer 171 

A  little  rest  and  lunch  at  mid-day 175 

About  as  large  a  male  as  is  usually  foimd 179 

Trophies  of  the  chase 185 

My  favorite  hunting  horse,  Coley 193 

Packing   in    a   deer 193 

A  New  Brunswick  black  bear 203 

Four  of  them  at  home 209 

A  little  chap  in  trouble 215 

Climbing  back  into  the  mountains 219 

A  bit  of  rough  country  (Manuel,  our  mozo,  on  top  of  rock)  223 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  17 

PAGE 

Those  pleasant  days  in  camp 229 

As  I  approached  with  the  kodak  he  posed  beautifully,  baring 

his  cruel  fangs  and  growling  in  a  coarse  undertone    .      .  233 

The  cougar  was  a  male  in  prime  condition,  and  measured 

seven  feet  five  inches 233 

A  treed  bobcat,  intently  watching  the  hounds  below  .      .      .  237 

Brown  bear,  photographed  while  fighting  oflF  the  hounds    .  243 

The  end  of  the  chase 249 

"Riders  up  1"  ordered  Hi 249 

The  cougar  of  Black  Canon  was  dead 255 

They  knew  no  fear,  those  dogs 259 

Old  Three  Legs  breathed  his  last 263 

Homeward  bound 267 

From  time  to  time  the  prowler  would  stop 371 

Glacier  on  Stikine  River 277 

Packing  the  outfit  after  crossing  the  Stikine 285 

The  two  Indians,  McClosky  on  right 291 

Mac  and  the  first  Moose  of  the  trip 297 

Crossing  the  mountains  above  timber  line 301 

Stone's   sheep 307 

White    mountain-goat 311 

Preparing  to  move  camp 311 

A  half-grown  bull  moose 317 

Crossing  the  head  of  the  Iskoot 321 

Swimming  the  horses  across  the  river      .<••..  325 

The  big  fellow's  battles  were  at  an  end    .      .      .      .  ^  .      ,  329 


18       LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

On   the  trail .  333 

At  the  ford 337 

My  tent  in  the  high,  cold  caribou  country 341 

Two  caribou  in  their  native  haunts 345 

A    typical    Osbom's    caribou 349 

A  porcupine  climbing  a  balsam  tree 353 

Mac  and  the  big  caribou  bull 357 

Mac  sighting  the  grizzly  on  the  opposite  mountain      .      .      .  361 

The  big  grizzly,  measuring  seven  feet  from  tip  to  tip      .      .  365 


BIG      GAME      FIELDS      OF 

AMERICA:  NORTH  AND 

SOUTH 


BIG  GAME  FIELDS 


HUNTING  THE    JAGUAR 
IN  SOUTH  AMERICA 

Part  I — Camps  in  the  British  Guiana 
Bush 

The  mystic  call  of  the  jungle  had  long  been 
upon  me  and  finally,  not  being  able  to  longer 
withstand  her  beckoning  to  the  fairyland  of  wild 
things,  I  took  passage  unaccompanied  to  Deme- 
rara,  where,  at  the  end  of  sixteen  days,  I  arrived. 

Demerara  or  Georgetown  is  the  capital  of 
British  Guiana,  and  is  a  truly  tropical  city  sit- 
uated on  the  Demerara  River.  Out  of  60,000 
inhabitants  there  are  not  more  than  five  hundred 
pure  whites  or  Europeans,  but  there  are  a  goodly 
number  who  consider  themselves  whites,  who  have 
what  is  known  there  as  a  touch  of  the  "tar- 
brush," which  means  there  is  a  slight  trace  of  some 
dark-skinned  race  in  them. 

I  purposed  to  roam  through  the  great  im- 
measurable jungles  far  up  in  the  interior.    The 


22  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

chief  objects  in  view  were  to  complete  a  study  of 
the  jaguar  in  his  true  haunts,  to  learn  something 
of  the  ways  of  the  jungle  and  the  principal  game 
therein;  also  to  bring  back  one  jaguar  skin  of  my 
own  killing.  These  primeval  forests  are  not 
traversed  by  any  roads  or  trails.  It  is  true  there 
are  many  game  trails,  but  they  lead  nowhere  in 
particular,  and  can  only  be  followed  by  continu- 
ally wielding  the  cutlass.  The  only  mode  then 
that  remains  is  to  proceed  by  water,  and  a  net- 
work of  waterways  with  wide  tributaries  and 
multitudinous  streams  offers  the  traveler  a  wide 
selection,  if  he  has  but  a  mind  to  penetrate  these 
sequestered  wilds. 

The  first  difficulties  that  arise  are  the  rapids 
and  waterfalls.  To  overcome  this,  peculiarly 
adapted  river  craft  are  necessary,  one  form  of 
which  is  known  as  a  curial,  and,  equally  as  im- 
portant, not  less  than  six  bushmen  or  native  In- 
dians to  paddle,  haul  or  carry,  as  the  case  may 
be,  through  or  around  these  various  waterways. 

Having  become  acquainted  with  the  require- 
ments, I  at  once  set  about  to  get  such  a  crew  and 
necessary  outfit.  There  was  one  other  point  I 
had  in  mind,  and  that  was  to  procure,  if  possible, 
a  few  good  hounds  that  had  had  some  experience 
in  hunting  the  jaguar.    I  knew  beforehand  that 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         23 

it  was  of  no  use  to  bring  dogs  into  that  country 
to  hunt  which  were  not  acclimated  and  accus- 
tomed to  the  peculiarities  of  the  Guiana  bush. 
Men  who  have  bred  dogs  there  told  me  that  dogs 
coming  to  Guiana  from  a  cold  climate  usually 
die  oiF  in  a  few  months.  This  is  due  to  several 
causes ;  first,  they  cannot  endure  the  climate,  and 
fever  seems  to  lay  hold  of  them,  while  the  ticks 
and  bugs  literally  worry  them  to  death.  Then 
there  are  the  usual  dangers  of  the  bush  (the 
word  "bush"  is  employed  there  when  referring 
to  the  jungle),  which  the  native  dog  or  Creole 
breed,  as  he  is  called,  has  learned  to  some  extent 
to  avoid,  such  as  giving  wide  berth  to  many  of 
the  venomous  snakes,  keeping  away  from  the 
rush  of  the  pugnacious  bush-dog  (there  are  two 
species  in  Guiana,  the  peccary  and  the  Kairuni), 
frequently  traveling  in  droves  of  fifty  and  up- 
ward ;  the  crushing  stamp  of  the  tapir's  forefoot 
when  brought  to  bay,  and  similar  jungle  dangers. 

To  secure  such  a  pack  of  dogs  I  was  very 
kindly  assisted  by  Mr.  Frank  Fowler,  Commis- 
sioner of  Lands  and  Mines,  who  gave  me  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  a  Mr.  D.  J.  A.  Spence,  the 
owner  of  a  large  rubber  plantation,  five  miles 
out  of  Georgetown. 

Mr.  Spence,  who  has  ten  tigers  to  his  credit 


24  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

(tiger  being  the  local  term  for  jaguar),  and  has 
assisted  in  the  killing  of  as  many  more,  had  just 
such  a  pack  of  dogs  as  I  wanted  to  take  on 
my  trip.  I  was  received  cordially,  and,  in  fact, 
I  may  take  this  opportunity  to  express  my  grati- 
tude for  the  manner  in  which  I  was  received  and 
assisted  by  every  one  in  the  colony  who  knew 
the  object  of  my  visit.  Mr.  Spence  agreed  not 
only  to  let  me  use  his  hounds,  but  proposed  that 
I  outfit  right  from  his  place,  while  he  would 
assist  in  getting  my  bushmen  and  Indians.  An- 
other problem  was  also  overcome  when  he  sug- 
gested that  I  use  his  curial. 

I  provided  myself  with  a  cotton  knitted  ham- 
mock made  by  the  Indians,  and  fitted  with  a 
mosquito  netting.  This  is  about  the  best  and 
only  practical  way  of  sleeping  in  the  jungle. 
Above  my  hammock  I  always  have  stretched  a 
heavy  canvas  12  x  12  feet  to  keep  off  the  rains 
and  damp.  One  other  absolutely  necessary  ar- 
ticle is  a  tin  canister,  which  is  made  like  a  small 
trunk.  In  this  all  extra  clothing  and  belongings 
are  kept,  not  only  to  prevent  them  from  getting 
damp,  but  to  keep  the  bugs  and  ants,  which  are 
everywhere,  from  making  a  meal  of  them ;  for  it 
seems  that  every  substance  in  the  jungle  has 
its  special  bug  or  termite,  which  contrives  to 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         25 

destroy  it.  ]My  camera  films  were  put  up  in  tins 
and  sealed;  then  again  put  in  a  tin  box,  all  of 
which  were  wrapped  up  and  kept  in  my  canister. 
This  is  the  only  way  to  get  results  with  any  de- 
gree of  certainty  in  a  tropical  country  of  this 
kind. 

I  spent  two  or  three  days  with  Mr.  Spence 
while  I  was  preparing  for  my  trip  up  in  the 
"bush."  It  was  a  most  delightful  and  interest- 
ing visit.  I  listened  with  much  interest  to  Mr. 
Spence's  many  encounters  with  the  jaguar.  He 
had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  the 
colony,  was  now  in  his  sixty-second  year  and  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  hunt  and 
observe  the  great  cat.  The  "Old  Shikari,"  as 
]Mr.  Spence  was  called  locally  (meaning  "Deer- 
foot"),  had  several  fine  lusty -looking  children, 
but  I  was  much  surprised  when  I  noticed  that 
some  of  their  fingers  and  toes  were  missing. 
Upon  inquiry  I  found  that  they  had  been  bitten 
off  by  the  dreaded  "caribi"  or  "perai."  This 
fish,  usually  not  more  than  fifteen  inches  in 
length  and  similar  in  conformation  to  our  black 
bass,  has  most  powerful  jaws,  armed  with  large, 
razor-cutting  teeth.  In  appearance  these  are  not 
unlike  the  front  teeth  of  a  human  being,  except- 
ing that  the  edges  are  extremely  keen.    When  the 


26  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

perai  scent  a  wounded  animal,  or  even  man,  they 
will  crowd  around  in  shoals  and  devour  the  object 
ahve. 

Finally,  having  engaged  four  blacks  or  bush- 
men,  and  laid  in  the  amount  of  stores  calculated 
to  be  necessary  for  myself  and  crew  of  six  (my 
two  native  Indians  or  trackers  we  were  to  pick 
up  a  few  miles  up-river),  I  was  ready  and 
anxious  to  get  away  into  the  heart  of  nature. 

Through  the  thin,  opaque  light  of  a  faint  gray 
dawn,  I  moved  on  down  to  the  w^ater's  edge, 
where  the  curial  and  men  were  in  waiting  "Old 
Shikari's"  tall,  spare  figure  loomed  up  indistinctly 
on  the  bank.  He  was  giving  some  final  instruc- 
tions to  the  men;  then  their  paddles  sank  deep 
into  the  dark,  ominous-looking  water  and  we 
swung  out  into  the  river.  The  figure  on  the  bank 
grew  dim,  then  faded  and  became  a  part  of  the 
billowy  white  mist  that  floated  as  gracefully  as  a 
white  swan  above  the  water.  Soundlessly  we 
shpped  along,  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the 
river  and  headed  up  along  the  west  bank  so  as 
to  avoid  the  current.  The  outlying  houses  and 
huts  dropped  away,  the  river  narrowed,  and  the 
great  barricading  jungle  walls  rose  sheer  from 
the  water's  edge.    No  sound  was  falling,  for  it 


The  outlying  huts  and  houses  on   tlu-   Dcnierara  drojiped   away. 


Indians    of    the    Ciuiana    IJush. 


isr^iatf^tr^sJw^ 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR        29 

was  at  that  hushed  hour  when  all  nocturnal  life 
had  repaired  to  its  lair  and  the  wild  kindreds  of 
the  day  had  not  yet  issued  forth. 

In  the  gloom  of  the  deep-shadowed  shore 
our  long,  narrow  craft  slid  along  with  such  in- 
credible silence  that  it  might  well  indeed  have 
been  taken  for  one  of  the  shifting  shadows. 
Glancing  upward,  a  large  bat  flitted  by — a  pass- 
ing phantom  form — a  bird  shifted  uneasily,  and 
then  with  a  long,  plaintive  note  broke  the  intense 
silence.  A  lean  dawn  breeze  drifted  down  the 
river,  bringing  with  it  the  fragrance  of  the  for- 
ests. 

Over  the  tips  of  the  jungle — far  away  to  the 
east — the  faintest  tinge  of  mauve  pink  flooded 
the  sky;  another  day  was  asserting  itself.  The 
sun  slowly  climbed  into  a  clear  sky,  dispelling 
the  mists  and  turning  the  dew-bespeckled  jungle 
roof  into  a  glowing,  glistening  blaze  of  glory. 

I  looked  out  on  what  was  to  me  a  new  world, 
full  of  strange  sights,  sounds  and  creatures. 
Rampart-like  the  forests  rose  on  either  side  of  the 
river  to  a  height  of  over  a  hundred  feet.  They 
were  so  dense  that  it  was  not  possible  to  see  be- 
yond the  surface  of  their  impenetrable  walls. 
Even  so,  they  never  grew  tiresome.  Fresh  pano- 
ramas appeared  at  every  turn,   for  the  forest 


80  BIG   GAJME    FIELDS 

walls  were  a  garden  of  wonderland.  Scarlet 
creepers  festooned  from  branch  to  branch,  and 
glowing  crimson  curved  into  arbors  and  bowers ; 
grottoes  from  whose  roofs  swmig  what  seemed 
like  little  fairy  lanterns  in  shades  of  pale  laven- 
der, delicate  blue  and  deep  purple;  velvety  dark 
caverns  overhanging  the  water,  studded  with 
white  pendants  that  looked  like  crystal  globes, 
pergolas  draped  in  burnished  copper. 

Continuing  on  through  this  palm-strewn  para- 
dise, one  sees  the  parrots  in  their  natural  wild 
home,  flocks  of  blue  and  red  macaws,  the  scarlet 
ibis,  besides  many  other  birds  of  gay  plumage, 
and  yet  but  a  fraction  has  been  said  of  the  de- 
lights of  these  fairyland  scenes. 

Ranjettan,  my  head  black,  who  spoke  a  little 
English,  I  relied  on  mostly  to  conduct  the  trip. 
The  rest  of  the  men  I  could  understand  but  little, 
and  therefore  my  conversation  was  rather  limited, 
I  being  the  only  white.  It  was  now  ten  o'clock 
and  we  had  covered  nearly  a  dozen  miles.  The 
heat  from  the  stifling  sun's  rays  made  the  air 
like  a  Turkish  bath,  and  it  was  a  great  relief 
when  Ranjettan  steered  for  the  shore  and  the 
inviting  looking  shade. 

The  manner  of  living  in  the  tropics  is  quite 
different  from  that  of  a  more  northern  clime,  and 


Through    this   pahn-strevvn    paradise. 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR        38 

the  traveler  will  do  well  to  conform  to  their  cus- 
toms. For  instance,  in  the  early  morning  I  took 
coffee  and  crackers;  between  ten  and  eleven  a 
hearty  breakfast;  in  the  afternoon  we  made  tea, 
and  at  night  we  had  dinner.  This  is  the  English 
custom  of  Guiana,  and  when  one  has  more  or 
less  strenuous  matters  to  attend  to  the  hours  are 
excellent,  for  between  eleven  and  four  in  the 
afternoon  it  is  much  too  hot  to  be  about,  and  it 
is  only  diu'ing  the  morning  hours  and  the  late 
afternoon  that  we  went  on  our  way,  excepting  on 
rare  occasions.  It  is  quite  the  same,  too,  with 
the  wild  folk,  though  most  of  our  four-footed 
animals  here  are  nocturnal,  those  of  the  day  only 
moving  about  in  the  early  morning  and  late  after- 
noon; so  that  a  stranger,  upon  entering  the 
great  forest,  may  be  surprised  at  the  absence  of 
life;  but  if  at  nightfall  or  early  morning,  he 
should  take  up  a  position  and  remain  quite  still, 
then  he  may  be  surprised  again  at  the  abundance 
of  wild  life.  So,  having  had  a  substantial  break- 
fast, we  swung  our  hammocks  in  the  shade, 
where  we  dozed  and  idled  away  the  long,  hot 
hours  of  the  day. 

As  the  sun  dipped  low  in  the  west  we  were 
up  and  about  again.  After  tea  and  a  little  "cas- 
sava" bread  we  resumed  our  way.     It  may  be 


84  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

of  interest  to  know  just  what  cassava  bread  is: 
Scattered  sparsely  through  these  great  forests 
are  five  tribes  of  aboriginal  Indians.  These  chil- 
dren of  nature,  in  appearance,  bear  a  striking 
resemblance  to  the  Japanese.  Their  small  vil- 
lages are  now  and  again  come  upon  and  there 
are  seldom  more  than  five  or  six  "benabs" 
(thatched  sheds  under  which  are  swung  the  ham- 
mocks) in  one  village,  and  usually  less  than  a 
score  of  Indians  to  a  hamlet.  They  are  just  as 
primitive  in  their  ways  as  they  were  when  first 
discovered,  living  entirely  by  the  natural  products 
of  the  forest.  With  their  bows  and  arrows  and 
poisonous  darts  from  the  blow-pipe — while  occa- 
sionally you  will  find  one  with  what  is  called  a 
"buckgun"  (a  long,  single-barrel  muzzle-loading 
affair) — they  secure  all  the  fresh  meat  they  re- 
quire. But  it  is  the  cassava  plant  that  yields  their 
staff  of  life,  and  to  them  we  owe  its  discovery. 
Only  the  root  of  the  plant  is  used  and  until 
properly  prepared  is  quite  poisonous.  It  is  first 
grated,  then  put  in  a  "Matapee,"  which  in  ap- 
pearance resembles  a  long  wicker  basket;  this  is 
suspended  from  a  branch  and  a  heavy  weight 
put  at  the  bottom.  In  this  way  the  poisons  ooze 
out  and  leave  a  foodstuff'  ready  for  cooking,  that 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        35 

answers  the  purpose  of  bread,  and  is  exceedingly 
nutritious. 

By  nightfall  we  came  to  just  such  a  little 
Indian  hamlet  as  I  have  described,  and  it  was 
here  I  was  to  get  my  two  Indians.  They  were 
of  the  Macoushi  tribe,  quite  pleasant  fellows, 
always  ready  to  laugh,  especially  when  ill-luck 
befell  them.  One  peculiarity  of  these  fellows  is 
that  they  will  never  give  their  Indian  name,  but 
will  have  you  call  them  "John"  or  "Charlie,"  so 
Ranjettan  informed  me  that  one  was  John  Char- 
ley and  the  other  was  just  plain  John.  From 
acting  as  guide  and  carrier  before  for  Euro- 
peans, John  Charley  could  say  a  few  words  in 
English,  and  could  also  understand  a  few,  but 
very  few.  In  answering  it  seemed  that  he  tried 
to  say  what  pleased,  whether  it  was  really  so  or 
not;  as  when  I  would  ask  him  if  there  were  any 
jaguars  in  certain  sections  he  w^ould  always  re- 
ply, "Plenty  tigers,  plenty  tigers."  That  night 
we  swung  our  hammocks  in  one  of  their  "benabs." 
In  the  morning,  instead  of  continuing  on  our 
way,  we  decided  to  remain  over  a  day,  and  try 
for  a  little  fresh  meat,  having  been  encouraged 
by  John  Charley,  who  told  us  of  seeing  large  and 
fresh  tapir  tracks  about  two  miles  up  the  river 
the  evening  before.     To  follow  hounds  through 


36  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

the  jungle  on  foot  seemed  to  me  at  first  ridiculous. 
It  not  only  proved  possible,  however,  but  quite 
successful  as  well. 

After  once  cutting  through  the  barricading 
walls,  where  the  jungle  is  composed  largely  of 
great  forest  giants  with  huge  buttressed  roots, 
one  is  rather  surprised  at  the  absence  of  under- 
brush. The  great  tree  trunks  often  shoot  up  to 
a  height  of  seventy  feet  before  sending  out  a 
branch,  and  the  smaller  trees,  stalks,  etc.,  seldom 
spread  or  show  any  foliage  until  they  have 
reached  the  jungle  roof,  where  the  sunlight  gives 
them  the  life  they  all  seem  to  struggle  for  so 
eagerly.  Through  these  column  aisles  of  the 
jungle  one  can  get  along  tolerably  well,  but  it 
may  be  supposed  that  its  character  frequently 
changes,  and  in  sections  it  is  well-nigh  impossible 
to  get  through  the  tangle  of  woods,  where  the 
dense  growth  and  windfalls  of  countless  storms 
conspire  to  keep  the  traveler  from  his  goal. 

As  the  first  spectral  gray  of  dawn  began  to 
sift  its  pale  light  through  the  forest,  we  were 
sliding  up  river  in  the  curial  with  the  hounds. 
The  Indians  paddling  swiftly,  we  soon  arrived  at 
the  spot  where  we  were  to  moor  our  craft  and 
follow  into  the  vast  forests.    All  my  men  were 


3Gr>ij 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        39 

barefooted,  but  they  could  see;  by  that  I  mean 
they  had  the  trained  eye  of  the  lynx,  and  at  a 
glance  could  distinguish  the  dull  mottled  body 
of  the  deadly  labaria  snake  from  the  branches 
and  roots  that  it  so  closely  resembled.  But  the 
sense  of  the  two  Indians  was  still  more  keen  than 
that  of  the  bushmen.  They  seemed  to  possess 
the  very  craft  of  the  dwellers  of  the  wild — and 
why  not?  They  were  of  them.  John  Charley 
could  observe  the  footsteps  of  the  game  when 
the  alien  eye  could  not  discern  the  slightest 
vestige. 

It  was  with  no  little  difficulty  I  followed  these 
fellows  through  the  woods,  as  they  quietly  and 
apparently  with  the  greatest  ease  threaded  their 
way,  and  must  confess  I  was  quite  ashamed  of 
the  noise  I  made  lumbering  along.  There  would 
be  plenty  of  opportunity  for  practice,  however, 
and  surely  I  must  improve  a  little.  About  two 
miles  were  covered  and  to  me  they  seemed  much 
more — for  I  was  already  beginning  to  tire,  and 
there  was  no  life  in  the  hot,  murky  air.  Between 
the  dew  and  perspiration  I  was  quite  wet  through, 
and  after  picking  up  a  couple  of  thorns,  having 
my  hat  brushed  off  a  few  more  times,  I  was  com- 
mencing to  feel  like  a  novice.  At  just  about  this 
juncture   John   Charley   pointed   down   to   the 


40  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

ground,  chuckled  to  himself  and  seemed  greatly 
pleased.  I  looked  carefully  along  the  floor  of 
the  jungle,  but  could  not  see  the  slightest  sign  or 
reason  for  his  mirth.  Presently  we  came  to  a 
creek,  and  here  on  the  muddy  banks  I  could 
plainly  see  the  large  three-toed  hoof -prints  of  a 
tapir.  Passing  on  a  little  further,  the  hounds 
soon  gave  tongue  and  were  away  on  his  hot  trail. 

The  excitement  seemed  to  give  me  a  new 
lease  of  life,  but  just  how  I  managed  to  develop 
the  speed  and  endurance  to  keep  up  fairly  well 
with  John  Charley,  I  never  quite  knew.  I  had 
employed  a  good  many  different  methods  of 
hunting  during  the  past  few  years,  but  to  follow 
hounds  through  the  jungle  on  foot  was  not  only 
a  new  experience  to  me,  but  strenuous  enough  for 
the  most  blase  sportsman.  The  run,  though  not 
a  very  long  one,  was  plenty  stiff  enough  while  it 
lasted.  Running  down  to  a  muddy  bit  of  ground, 
I  caught  sight  of  a  big  animal  which  looked  as 
large  as  a  cow.  The  dogs  had  him  at  bay,  and  in 
his  wild  fury  he  was  dashing  first  at  one  dog 
and  then  at  another,  trying  to  crush  out  their 
lives  with  the  lightning-like  stamp  of  his  fore- 
feet. 

To  be  quick  with  the  rifle  meant  a  new  speci- 
men for  me,  rest,  and  a  refreshing  draught  ofi 


HUNTING   THE   JAGUAR        41 

water;  to  bungle  meant  more  of  the  terrific  pace 
— and  perhaps  to  lose  him  altogether.  "Dash," 
the  most  daring  and  vicious  fighter  of  the  pack, 
hurled  himself  in  and  gripped  the  tapir  by  the 
flank.  At  the  same  moment  the  animal  had 
whirled,  one  hoof  raised,  and  before  it  began  to 
descend — or  an  eye-wink  later — the  big  beast 
fell  forward  and  lay  quite  still.  There  had  been 
no  bungle, 

A  pleasant  smoke,  a  long,  deep  drink  of  water, 
a  quiet  rest  in  the  shade  are  pleasures  that  money 
cannot  bring,  but  have  to  be  fairly  earned  to  be 
appreciated.  The  tapir  was  a  large  bull,  and  I 
estimated  his  weight  in  this  way:  The  men,  six 
of  them,  after  cleaning,  removing  the  head  and 
lower  part  of  the  legs,  divided  up  the  meat  in 
six  parts,  to  the  extent  of  what  they  considered  a 
fair  load  to  each  man.  Figuring  50  pounds  to  a 
man,  and  allowing  for  parts  removed,  I  would 
say  400  pounds  very  conservative.  Taking  large 
palm  leaves  and  securing  with  the  smaller  bush- 
ropes  or  creepers,  which  make  an  excellent  sub- 
stitute for  rope  and  cord — the  men  made  very 
neat  parcels  of  their  loads,  and  passing  across 
their  foreheads  one  of  these  supports,  packed  out 
the  meat  much  after  the  manner  of  the  Canadian 
woodsman. 


42  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

Coming  down  the  river  the  men  made  it  lively 
and  interesting  and  treated  me  to  rather  a  novel 
entertainment.  As  they  propelled  the  boat  rap- 
idly along  they  chanted  droll  tunes.  There  were 
part-songs,  and  solos  with  choruses  that  told  of 
tales  of  the  chase,  mournful  tragedies,  and  ad- 
ventures. As  they  sang  they  would  now  and 
again  throw  up  the  water  with  their  paddles,  so 
that  it  played  in  the  sunshine,  and  fell  in  a 
jeweled  shower,  while  all  through  it  an  accom- 
paniment was  kept  up  by  the  tapping  of  their 
paddles  on  the  side  of  the  boat.  They  also  inter- 
spersed the  songs  with  long,  peculiar  blasts  on 
the  hunting  horns,  and  this,  I  learned  later  in  the 
day,  was  a  signal  to  all  those  within  hearing  that 
a  big  killing  had  taken  place,  and  by  nightfall  we 
had  many  visitors  from  the  neighboring  Indians 
and  bushmen,  all  of  whom  were  given  a  Hberal 
portion  of  meat. 

That  night  I  slept  soundly  until  the  small 
hours  of  morning,  when  I  grew  restless  and 
finally  awoke  to  the  fact  that  a  hundred  places 
over  my  anatomy  gave  me  a  peculiar  itching, 
burning  sensation. 

"Can't  stand  it  any  longer,"  I  finally  said 
aloud.  "Ranjettan,  get  up  and  make  a  fire; 
there     is     something     eating     me    alive,"     I 


^^tkZ^^ 

^^^^^^  ^"'^'^''^  ^^    <4^^^^l 

B5r^ 

"^^^^  ^^SJVimH^^^H 

w 

^^^K 

^^^^B  V  ^^^^HL'^. 

t^^^ 

Most   practical   dress    for   the   tropics. 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        45 

called  over  to  his  hammock.  Ranjettan  hastily 
came  to  my  rescue,  and  with  the  aid  of  my  pocket 
electric  lamp  looked  me  over. 

"Bete-rouge,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  smile. 
These  are  the  little  red  devil-bugs  that  bury  under 
the  skin  and  make  life  unbearable.  Waking  up 
John  Charley,  they  brought  over  some  crabwood 
oil,  which  I  spread  over  the  affected  parts,  and, 
feeling  as  slippery  as  an  eel,  but  much  more  at 
ease  than  before,  I  returned  to  my  hammock  to 
woo  a  little  further  sleep. 

We  were  astir  early  next  morning,  and  after 
loading  the  curial  continued  our  way.  As  we 
ascended  the  river  the  jungle  roof  grew  higher 
and  higher,  and  its  foliage  displayed  a  charming 
variety  of  every  shade,  from  the  lightest  to  the 
darkest  green.  Occasionally  a  giant  mora  tree, 
overtowering  the  roof  of  the  jungle,  stood  out  in 
grand  magnificence. 

To  appreciate  the  forest  and  enjoy  the  beauty 
and  loveliness  of  all  wild  life,  it  is  necessary,  be- 
sides being  a  f  aunal  naturalist  and  lover  of  na- 
ture, to  be  something  of  a  botanist;  for  animal 
life  is  much  in  the  minority,  while  plant  life 
looms  up  everywhere  and  outnumbers  the  other  a 
million  to  one.  Naturalists  have  not  been  credited 
with  the  sense  of  beauty  and  harmony   found 


46  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

among"  poets,  but  to  my  mind  none  but  a  student 
of  nature  can  fully  appreciate  a  landscape.  The 
painter  sees  the  patches  of  color  in  the  flowers, 
trees  and  river;  but  the  naturalist  recognizes  the 
objects  which  make  up  the  scene  and  can  see  a 
truer  and  infinitely  more  interesting  picture.  In 
the  soft  soil  at  the  edge  of  the  stream  he  recog- 
nizes the  roundish  footprints  of  the  jaguar,  and 
pictures  the  great  cat  stepping  lightly  as  the  fall 
of  snow  before  him.  To  one  side,  and  within  the 
shadows  of  a  great  buttressed  tree,  the  jaguar 
flattens,  and  becomes  to  all  appearances  a  part 
of  the  uneven  ground,  for  he  has  suddenly  dis- 
covered a  likely  meal  near  by — a  peccary,  just 
twenty  feet  away,  is  enjoying  her  evening  fare 
as  she  quietly  munches  the  oily  kernel  of  the 
fallen  nuts  from  the  saouari  tree.  Then  some- 
thing from  somewhere  pounces  upon  the  unsus- 
pecting pig,  and  in  spite  of  her  struggles,  of 
which  the  ground  about  gives  evidence,  she  is 
killed,  and  what  the  big  cat  leaves  undevoured  is 
soon  obliterated  by  the  many  ants  and  termites. 
Here,  on  the  sand,  are  the  delicate  hoof-marks 
of  the  peccary,  and  an  occasional  bone  is  found, 
while  the  little  bristles  are  littered  all  about.  It 
is  with  the  aid  of  such  signs  as  these  that  the 
naturalist  reads  the  ways  of  the  wild  folks. 


Native-bred    jaguar   hounds. 


^^^HT        \  ^ 

K^J 

.-^- 

l^t  ^ 

^i,-  'JM 

■H^^HI^^  as» -1 

^  '  ■• 

-►iw-^ 

.  ,  .  ■  ^,_-^PI 

Bj,?%  -^^^m*^    wns^^Bok 

We  grouped  ourselves  about  Ranjettan. 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         49 

For  four  days  we  continued  on  through  this 
delightful  waterway,  so  rich  with  medley  of 
sight  and  sound.  At  times  we  stopped  to  shoot 
a  few  muscovy  ducks,  which  were  frequently  met 
with,  and  now  and  then  I  would  go  a  short  dis- 
tance into  the  jungle  to  bag  a  few  "Maam," 
properly  called  "Tinamou,"  which  are  birds  about 
the  size  of  a  chicken  and  make  a  very  savory 
dish. 

Having  ascended  the  river  some  seventy  miles, 
we  now  packed  our  outfit  and  portaged  through 
a  cut  in  the  jungle  everything  across  to  the 
Essequibo  River,  some  fifteen  miles  to  the  west. 
John  Charley  advised  us  that  we  could  procure 
boats  from  the  Indians  there,  so  it  was  not  neces- 
sary to  transport  the  curial.  The  scenery  in  the 
Essequibo  is  still  more  awe-inspiring  by  force  of 
its  wild  magnificence,  due  largely  to  the  over- 
powering effect  of  the  huge  forest  monarchs — 
the  greenheart,  purpleheart  and  mora,  which, 
once  viewed  in  all  their  stately  grandeur,  make  a 
lasting  impression  upon  the  traveler.  Their 
trunks  frequently  exceed  six  feet  in  diameter, 
while  the  silk-cotton  tree  is  often  more  than  a 
dozen  feet  through  at  the  base.  JNIost  of  us  now 
are  familiar  with  the  invaluable  qualities  of  the 
greenheart  wood,  so  dear  to  the  angler;  its  tough- 


50  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

ness  and  unlimited  power  of  resisting  the  action 
of  the  water  also  make  it  highly  desirable  for 
construction  work,  for  docks  and  harbor  works, 
while  its  use  has  been  specified  for  the  dock-gates 
of  the  Panama  Canal. 

Here,  too,  the  wallaba  tree  is  plentiful,  and 
sections  of  our  upper  Broadway  are  already 
paved  with  blocks  of  its  hardwood. 

On  the  flora  growth  a  volume  might  be  written, 
so  I  shall  not  wander  farther  into  these  paths. 

After  procuring  another  curial  and  also  a 
woodskin  (the  latter  being  made  of  a  single 
oblong  strip  of  bark,  and  used  to  paddle  along 
in  quietly  in  search  of  game)  we  proceeded  to  the 
north  end  of  what  my  men  called  "Gluck  Island, '^ 
which  is  twelve  miles  in  length  and  from  two  to 
three  in  width.  Here  we  camped  for  several 
days,  as  I  had  been  informed  that  the  jaguar 
frequently  repaired  to  this  island  to  rear  their 
young,  and  which  could  nearly  always  be  relied 
upon  to  harbor  some  of  the  big  cats. 

Fresh  meat  had  again  become  rather  a  scarce 
item  on  our  evening  menu,  more  because  of  neg- 
lect than  for  lack  of  opportunity.  So  rather 
than  frighten  off  the  game  and  possibly  a  jaguar 
— which  quite  generally  follow  the  drift  of  the 
game — by  promiscuous  shooting,  I  proposed  to 


HUNTING   THE   JAGUAR        51 

maintain  the  peaceful  serenity  of  the  still  forest 
depths  as  long  as  I  consistently  could.  Nor  did 
I  propose  to  go  meatless ;  for  it  was  not  for  noth- 
ing that  I  had  provided  myself  with  a  few  good 
hooks  and  lines,  and  had  nodded  my  consent  when 
John  Charley  held  up  his  bow  and  arrow  the  first 
day  I  had  laid  eyes  on  him. 

After  a  hard  tropical  downpour  which  had 
lasted  all  morning,  I  went  out  to  try  for  a  few 
"lukananni."  This  fish  is  rather  similar  to  the 
perch,  and  when  fresh  caught  makes  a  most  ex- 
cellent dish.  Rigged  with  a  rod  of  which  a  king 
might  be  proud — the  price  of  which  was  the  mere 
cutting  of  it — (Ranjettan  having  taken  it  off 
with  one  slice  of  his  cutlass) — for  bait  I  used 
a  grub  nearly  three  inches  long,  of  brilliant  col- 
oring. Down  would  go  the  tip  with  a  vengeance, 
and  these  finny  fellows  would  give  me  a  little 
pleasant  excitement  until  I  finally  dropped  them 
into  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  With  more  luck 
than  artifice,  I  soon  had  a  half-dozen  of  these 
handsome  fellows,  all  of  which  would  weigh  be- 
tween two  and  three  pounds. 

As  we  paddled  back  to  camp  I  saw  high  up  in 
the  top  of  some  mighty  mora  trees,  a  great  band 
of  the  red,  howling  monkeys,  generally  called 
the  red  baboon,  but  incorrectly  so.     They  were 


52  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

sporting  and  frisking  about  from  limb  to  limb 
and  branch  to  branch,  with  such  strange,  rapid 
movements  and  unerring  judgment  that  we  all 
sat  motionless  watching  the  performance.  Sud- 
denly the  leader — an  old  bearded  chap — ^must 
have  given  the  danger  signal  in  monkey  language, 
for  all  at  once  they  became  quiet  and  seemed  to 
have  suddenly  disappeared.  But  upon  looking 
carefully  I  could  make  out  one  after  another  in- 
distinctly, as  they  sat  motionless,  close  to  the  tree 
trunk,  or  all  but  lost  themselves  to  view  in  a  clump 
of  leaves.  After  they  had  satisfied  their  curiosity 
— and  I  suppose  deciding  that  their  great  height 
rendered  them  quite  safe — they  moved  about 
again,  seemingly  unconcerned,  except  for  one  or 
two  that  would  stop  and  peer  away  out  over  a 
branch,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Well,  why  don't 
you  go  on  about  your  business?"  which  we  finally 
did. 


II 

HUNTING    THE  JAGUAR 

Paet  II — Up  the  Essequibo  River 

One  afternoon,  coming  out  of  the  thicket  into 
a  small  opening,  I  stopped  short  as  I  caught 
sight  of  a  labaria  snake,  about  five  feet  long, 
lying  at  full  length  only  a  couple  of  steps  in 
front  of  me.  He  was  apparently  sleeping  away 
the  long,  stifling  hours  of  the  day,  while  the  sun 
full  upon  him  seemed  to  be  to  his  liking.  Great 
chance  of  a  picture,  thought  I,  and  straightway 
the  camera  recorded  the  scene.  But  as  I  stood  ad- 
justing another  film  I  felt  myself  being  quickly 
drawn  backward  by  one  of  the  men,  and  then  saw 
the  reptile  had  suddenly  become  very  much  awake, 
and  with  quick-darting  head  raised  and  arched, 
he  looked  hideous  and  menacing.  There  could  be 
no  doubt  he  meant  to  resent  our  presence ;  though 
he  did  not  shorten  the  distance  between  us,  he 
showed  no  signs  of  retreating ;  in  fact,  his  attitude 
made  me  believe  he  was  more  inclined  to  come 
on.     But  at  this  very  moment  John  Charley's 

53 


54  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

silent  arrow  pinned  him  neatly  to  the  ground, 
while  he  writhed  and  struck  again  and  again  in 
his  wild  hate  and  fury  at  the  unheard-of  enemy 
that  not  only  was  eating  out  his  life  but  riveting 
him  to  the  spot  as  well.  Ranjettan,  never  missing 
an  opportunity  to  bring  his  cutlass  into  play,  with 
a  quick,  clean  stroke  decapitated  the  long,  sinuous 
mottled  creature. 

Upon  returning  from  some  bird-watching 
studies  I  could  see  something  had  taken  place 
during  my  absence.  John  Charley  was  wearing 
his  broad  smile  that  always  indicated  he  had 
something  to  show  me,  or  something  had  trans- 
pired. It  seems  that  he  had  contrived  to  tem- 
porarily incapacitate  an  electric  eel  by  wounding 
it  with  an  arrow,  and  had  it  penned  up  with 
stones  and  sticks  at  the  shore's  edge,  so  that  the 
water  could  flow  in  and  out,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  this  most  peculiar  species  of  all  the  finny 
tribe  a  prisoraer.  The  eel  was  about  four  and  a 
half  feet  in  length,  and  the  slight  wound  he  had 
received  did  not  seem  to  affect  his  health  or  activi- 
ties. I  had  heard  of  the  electric  eel  before — in 
fact,  I  had  seen  one  mounted  in  the  Georgetown 
Museum  and  recognized  this  fellow  at  once.  I 
had  also  heard  that  they  could  send  a  shock 
through  the  water  so  severe  as  to  render  a  man 


A   deadly  labaria  snake,  six  feet   In  length. 


Our  curial   on   the   Essequiho. 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR        57 

helpless,  who  might  be  swimming  near  by.  But  I 
found  this  fellow  could  not  or  would  not  send 
any  shock  through  the  water.  My  illustrious  John 
did  not  know  I  was  familiar  with  the  characteris- 
tics of  his  captive,  and  suggested  that  I  touch  the 
eel,  which  I  promptly  did,  and  received  a  pretty 
sharp  shock,  but  not  enough  to  warrant  the 
startled  jump  I  gave,  as  I  wanted  to  see  the 
effect  it  would  have  on  the  joker.  This  probably 
was  the  greatest  amusement  he  had  had  in  many  a 
day,  for  he  chuckled  and  laughed  and  went  on  like 
a  boy.  Then  we  each  took  turns  in  taking  a 
shock.  You  could  touch  him  anywhere  and  if 
he  felt  like  it  he  would  give  you  a  shock  identi- 
cally the  same  as  that  received  from  an  electric 
battery.  The  electric  eel  I  saw  in  Georgetown 
was  six  or  seven  feet  long,  and  no  doubt  could 
give  a  stronger  shock. 

With  the  two  Indians  I  took  many  silent  walks 
through  the  jungle,  while  they  would  point  out 
various  game  signs  that  were  to  me  very  interest- 
ing, incidentally  hoping  we  might,  by  sheer  luck, 
come  upon  a  jaguar.  I  saw  where  the  big  cat 
had  clawed  deep  into  the  bark  of  some  of  the 
trees — a  characteristic  of  the  cat  family.  I 
noticed  in  the  clay  what  looked  like  a  fresh  track, 
but  John  Charley  laughed  and  pronounced  it 


58  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

weeks  old.  We  found  the  remains,  too,  of  an  old 
kill — a  "sloth" — just  a  few  of  the  bones  and 
a  little  hide  and  hair,  with  a  few  odd  footprints, 
told  the  story  better  than  it  could  be  told  with  a 
pen. 

Few,  I  think,  are  familiar  with  the  two  or 
three-toed  sloth,  so  just  a  word  or  two  may  not 
be  amiss.  He  is  the  quiet,  unassuming  little  chap 
who  never  does  any  harm  or  mischief  and  spends 
his  whole  life  upside  down,  so  to  speak;  for,  sus- 
pended from  under  side  of  branches,  he  passes  his 
life  in  the  trees,  only  asking  a  few  leaves  in  ex- 
change for  his  peaceful  existence.  On  the  ground 
he  is  quite  ill  at  ease,  and  it  appears  a  great  effort 
for  him  to  move  about ;  but  as  the  trees  are  close 
enough  together  he  is  scarcety  ever  put  to  this 
discomfort.  In  size  he  is  about  that  of  a  baboon 
— though  there  are  no  baboons  in  Guiana — and 
inhabits  the  remote  and  gloomy  forest,  where 
snakes,  scorpions,  and  stinging  ants  take  up 
their  abode,  obstructing  the  way  of  civilized  man, 
which  accounts  to  some  extent  for  the  fact  that 
few  of  us  are  acquainted  with  him. 

After  we  had  emploj^ed  for  several  days  all 
the  best  methods  at  our  command  for  seeking  out 
the  elusive  jaguar,  we  decided  that  there  were 
none  just  then  in  the  immediate  vicinity.     We 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         59 

therefore  again  struck  camp,  proceeding  further 
up  the  reaches  of  the  mighty  Essequiho,  the  river 
that  ghdes  through  wonderland.  Silver  and 
golden  sand  bars  swept  into  view;  on  one  side 
of  the  river  naked  cyclopean  rocks  caused  the 
water  to  hiss  and  roar  as  it  fought  for  a  passage ; 
while  looking  away  to  the  southwest  great  forest- 
clad  hills  rose  tier  upon  tier,  and  in  the  glow  of 
the  stooping  sun's  soft  medley  of  shade  of  color, 
produced  the  soothing  effect  of  an  opiate  bath. 
We  encamped  that  night  on  a  sand  bar,  and 
scarcely  had  we  made  our  camp  when  we  saw 
clouds  of  insects  coming  across  the  river,  and 
soon  we  were  in  the  midst  of  a  swarm  of  flying 
ants.  In  vain  we  muffled  our  heads  and  lit  innu- 
merable smudges;  they  settled  on  everything, 
crawled  up  our  arms  and  dropped  down  our 
backs.  Finally  the  cook  announced  he  could  not 
prepare  the  dinner,  as  they  swarmed  into  the  pots 
whenever  he  lifted  the  lids.  They  had  an  un- 
pleasant way,  too,  of  shedding  their  wings  as 
they  alighted,  and  remaining  as  simple  and  play- 
ful as  caterpillars.  We  began  to  think  we  would 
go  dinnerless,  when  just  as  darkness  settled  down 
they  all  seemed  to  disappear  as  they  had  come, 
leaving  behind  myriads  of  wings  and  creepy  bod- 


60  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

ies,  which  continued  to  wriggle  about  us  through- 
out the  night. 

At  dawn  great  banks  of  sullen  clouds  drifted 
over  our  heads  and  piled  up  threateningly.  We 
thought  we  were  in  for  a  heavy  downpour  but 
decided  to  continue  up — up,  always  up  and 
southward ;  for  the  general  trend  of  these  rivers  is 
to  the  north.  We  were  now  within  less  than  four 
degrees  of  the  equator,  and  the  day  continuing 
overcast,  we  did  not  stop  until  we  finally  turned 
up  a  tributary  stream  and  were  compelled  to  por- 
tage around  a  series  of  falls  and  rapids.  At  the 
next  piece  of  white  water  the  crew  hauled  the 
boat  up  with  long  ropes  which  they  had  brought 
with  them  for  such  an  emergency.  The  stream 
then  became  quiet  and  deep;  the  jungle  roof 
leaned  out  over  the  water  until  in  places  the  arch 
was  complete  and  formed  a  beautiful  bowery 
waterway.  At  length  the  stream  opened  out 
again,  and  selecting  a  spot  where  the  growth  was 
less  dense  we  made  a  small  clearing  and  pitched 
quite  a  comfortable  camp. 

A  heavy  rain  came  on  in  the  night  and  contin- 
ued intermittently  tliroughout  the  day.  In  the 
afternoon  Ranjettan  paddled  me  up  the  stream 
in  the  wood-skin.  We  had  not  gone  far  when  I 
caught  sight  of  a  handsome  red  deer  [Coassus 


John  Charley  and  red  deer   fawn. 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        63 

rufus)  standing  at  the  water's  edge  with  all  his 
senses  tense,  looking  straight  at  us,  and  inves- 
tigating with  eye,  ear  and  nostril  our  strange  ap- 
pearance. I  hesitated  to  shoot — he  looked  such 
a  picture — but  then  there  was  the  old  meat  ques- 
tion to  take  care  of.  The  rifle  spoke  out,  but  it 
was  apparently  too  late,  for  the  shot  and  his 
bound  seemed  simultaneous,  and  with  one  grace- 
ful spring  he  completely  disappeared.  On 
returning  to  camp  I  found  John  Charley  had 
been  out  to  reconnoiter  on  his  own  hook,  and  with 
his  unerring  arrow  had  brought  down  a  fine  deer, 
and  also  brought  in  alive  a  little  fawn;  but  just 
how  he  caught  this  little  fellow  I  never  quite 
understood.  His  explanation  was,  "I  just  run 
quick  and  pick  him  up — so."  Needless  to  say, 
for  dinner  we  had  deer  meat,  although  it  was  a 
little  too  fresh  to  be  real  good. 

As  I  lay  in  my  hammock  that  evening  formu- 
lating plans  for  the  next  day,  I  could  not  help 
taking  note  of  the  many  strange  sounds  and 
voices  that  rose  up  out  of  the  forests,  as  the 
shades  of  night  came  drifting  down.  First  there 
came  the  hum  and  droning  of  myriads  of  insects ; 
then  as  these  died  away  the  air  quivered  and 
thrilled  with  the  drowsj^  murmurings  of  birds  as 
they  flew  home  from  their  feeding  grounds  to 


64  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

perch  on  the  highest  trees,  while  the  wail  of  the 
goatsucker  sounded  like  the  departing  voice  of 
a  lost  soul.  The  millions  of  frogs  and  toads,  one 
after  another,  helped  to  swell  the  chorus  of  the 
night.  The  dragon-flies  came  with  their  ghost- 
lights,  that  glowed  and  glimmered  and  danced 
and  danced.  Then  the  weird  night  song  of  the 
howling  monkeys  swelled  through  the  forests  un- 
til they  rose,  fell  again,  then  rose,  smothering  all 
other  sounds.  The  apparently  sleeping  world  is, 
in  reality  awake,  alive  with  sound;  for  it  is  now 
patroled  by  other  creatures.  Those  of  the  day 
have  retired,  their  allotted  tasks  performed;  now 
come  the  things  that  hate  the  glarish  sun,  to 
frolic,  seek  food,  prowl,  seize  and  be  seized  in 
turn,  until  the  breaking  of  the  distant  dawn. 

With  the  hounds  the  next  morning  we  struck 
out  into  the  jungle.  ]My  men  had  reported  plenty 
of  jaguar  spoor  and  other  unfailing  signs  that 
one  or  more  of  the  big  crafty  cats  were  in  the 
vicinity.  I  felt,  too,  that  it  was  about  time  that 
something  should  happen.  Quickly  and  quietly 
we  threaded  our  way  through  the  intricate  for- 
ests. Game  signs  were  plentiful  and  varied  from 
puma  and  jaguar  to  labba.  But  suddenly  the 
unexpected  occurred,  as  it  almost  invariably  does. 
I  heard  a  rustling  in  the  thick  underbrush  ahead, 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        65 

a  grunt,  a  squeal  and  a  dash ;  a  chorus  of  grunts 
and  squeals — and  across  in  front  of  us  dashed 
the  biggest  herd  of  peccary  it  had  ever  been  my 
lot  to  come  upon.  With  flaming  eyes  and  brist- 
ling hair  the  dogs  made  a  mad  rush  forward.  We 
tried  to  bar  their  way  and  called  them  off.  But 
one  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  stem  the 
torrent  of  Niagara  as  to  try  to  get  them  off  the 
trail  of  these  porkers.  The  dogs  would  not  heed 
and  I  was  fearful  lest  the  whole  pack  might  be 
wiped  out  by  such  a  large  herd  of  these  pugna- 
cious wild  hogs.  To  make  matters  worse  I  had 
brought  the  rifle  into  play,  and  one  old  boar  lay 
quite  dead,  while  a  second,  just  nicked,  had  with 
all  his  viciousness,  wheeled  to  make  his  fight  to 
the  death;  and  about  a  half  dozen  more  stopped 
to  back  him  up.  The  dogs  surrounding  these 
cut  them  off  from  the  rest  of  the  herd,  which 
went  crashing  on  through  the  woods.  The  clamor 
and  din  that  rose  sounded  as  if  a  myriad  of  crazy 
echoes  had  been  set  loose.  That  there  would  be 
vacancies  in  the  ranks  of  the  dogs  was  now  ap- 
parent; old  Dash  had  fought  his  last  battle.  The 
long  tusks  of  an  old  boar  had  been  sunk  deep  into 
his  neck.  The  old  rifle  spoke  out — once,  twice — 
and  two  porkers  crumpled.  Another  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  as  he  rushed  off  with  an  arrow 


66  BIG    GAJME    FIELDS 

sticking'  straight  up  in  his  neck,  while  John  Char- 
ley's last  arrow  went  well-nigh  through  the  only 
remaining  one.  The  valiant  Dash,  who  had  been 
foremost  in  the  fray,  was  carried  back  to  camp, 
where  we  nursed  him  as  best  we  could.  The  rest 
of  the  pack  were  the  worst  for  wear,  but  still  on 
their  feet.  There  was  more  meat  in  camp  than 
we  had  hoped  for,  but  the  porkers  did  not  go  to 
waste. 

The  next  two  days'  searching  of  the  forest 
for  fresh  jaguar  signs  revealed  very  little.  On 
the  third  morning  after  the  encounter  with  the 
peccaries  I  remained  in  camp,  while  John  Char- 
ley, who  had  been  off  since  daylight,  returned 
about  ten  o'clock  and  reported  that  a  jaguar  had 
just  killed  a  wild  hog,  only  eating  a  small  portion 
of  it.  As  the  "kill"  had  been  carefully  covered, 
we  felt  sure  this  signified  the  intention  of  the 
slayer's  return.  All  the  rest  of  the  men  had  gone 
up  the  stream  in  the  large  boat,  on  a  sort  of  holi- 
day and  fishing  trip.  They  had  also  taken  along 
the  dogs,  leaving  me  quite  alone  and  undisturbed 
in  camp,  where  I  was  penning  this  very  narrative. 
The  news  of  the  jaguar  banished  all  further 
thought  of  writing  that  day,  and  with  John 
Charley  in  the  little  wood-skin  craft,  slid  rapidly 
down  stream  for  a  couple  of  miles.     Thinking 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        69 

possibly  the  big  cat,  through  his  varying  and 
uncertain  habits,  might  at  this  very  moment  be 
making  a  second  meal  from  the  "kill,"  we  made 
a  wide  circuit,  so  as  to  come  noiselessly  up-wind, 
and  thus  to  keep  our  scent  from  reaching  him. 
After  an  hour  of  picking  our  way  through  the 
thick  tangle  of  growth,  exercising  the  utmost 
care  to  avoid  the  slightest  noise,  we  neared  the 
spot  and  looked  tentatively  through  the  mass  of 
f  oHage.  There  was  neither  sound  nor  movement 
— it  was  the  silence  of  sleep,  one  would  say  death, 
for  it  was  high  noon  and  the  sun  shimmering 
undimmed  drove  all  the  wild  dwellers  to  seek  the 
quiet  shade,  where  the  sun  could  not  stab. 

Almost  inch  by  inch  we  worked  our  way  on, 
but  it  was  soon  apparent  that  nothing  had  re- 
turned to  the  "kill."  There  was  a  low  branching 
tree  within  a  few  yards  of  the  "kill,"  while  all 
around  the  jungle  grew  thick,  excepting  for  a 
long  opening  caused  by  the  fall  of  a  giant  Mora 
that  lay  uprooted,  where  it  had  cleaved  a  rift 
through  the  jungle  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
and  lay  there  stark  and  naked.  In  the  low  tree 
near  the  "kill"  we  built  a  platform  of  interlaced 
branches  called  in  Guiana  "Wabanni,"  in  India, 
a  "Machan."  These  are  not  built  for  the  purpose 
of  safety,  for  the  jaguar  climbs  with  wonderful 


70  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

agility — but  to  lessen  the  chances  of  detection  by 
scent. 

Here  we  took  up  our  silent  vigil.  An  hour 
dropped  by  and  we  had  seen  and  heard  nothing 
but  the  continual  singing  of  the  hordes  of  mos- 
quitoes that  were  biting  with  such  a  vengeance, 
that  I  could  scarcely  maintain  a  reasonable  de- 
gree of  composure.  Finally,  rather  than  to  be 
literally  eaten  alive  by  these  pests,  I  decided  to 
send  John  Charley  back  for  the  dogs.  It  was 
more  than  likely  that  the  jaguar  was  "lying  up" 
close  by,  and  I  believed  with  the  pack  we  could 
bring  him  to  bay  and  have  the  thing  over  in 
short  order.  The  faint  sound  of  John  Charley's 
fleeting  footfalls  soon  died  away.  Then  again 
settled  the  solemn  hush  of  the  great  forest 
around.  The  air  steamed  and  quivered  while  the 
atmosphere  reeked  with  dank  odors,  from  the 
damp,  loamy  soil  of  the  place,  and  the  humidity 
increased  by  a  degree  or  two.  The  shrilling  of 
the  insects  continued,  and  since  there  was  no 
other  sound  to  be  heard — it  was  hard  to  tell  what 
made  me  feel  that  I  was  not  alone — unless  it  was 
that  I  was  served  with  that  sixth  sense  that  comes 
to  us  at  times.  For  there,  where  nothing  had 
shown  a  moment  before,  appeared  a  vision  of 
spotted  black  and  gold  gazing  inquiringly  down 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        71 

the  deserted  vista  from  the  very  end  of  the  nude 
Mora  log. 

He  came  on  slowly  for  a  step  or  two,  then 
stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  a  pace,  seemingly 
to  listen,  as  if  something  had  arrested  his  atten- 
tion. Not  a  breath  stirred,  the  silence  was  com- 
plete; even  the  merciless  mosquitoes  seemed  to 
pause  in  their  murmurings.  While  his  majesty 
was  thus  occupied  he  deliberately  stared  up  into 
my  tree  with  two  unspeakably  sinister,  evil  eyes 
— no,  not  eyes — two  bits  of  cold  steel  that  pene- 
trated through  to  one's  very  backbone.  Slowly 
he  sank  down  to  a  crouch ;  suddenly  his  ears  were 
gone,  flattened;  then,  wrinkling  his  fastidious 
nostrils,  that  grinning  mask  displayed  a  splendid 
set  of  glistening,  cruel  fangs  that  spelled  hate 
and  death.  Whether  it  was  just  I  that  caused 
him  to  display  such  a  hateful  loathing,  or  the  idea 
that  I  had  come  to  rob  him  of  his  rightful  prey, 
was  a  question  to  dwell  on  later.  He  seemed 
about  to  dispel  the  idea  that  his  race  retired  be- 
fore man;  and  yet  I  felt  certain,  in  spite  of  all 
his  apparent  willingness  to  do  battle,  he  would 
not  come  on  another  inch.  And  just  herein  lies 
the  rub. 

I  had  been  persuaded,  against  my  better  judg- 
ment, that  a  shotgun  loaded  with  buckshot  was 


72  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

the  proper  arm  to  use  in  the  thick  jungle,  as  al- 
most invariahly  the  shooting  was  close  up;  and, 
too,  in  the  case  of  following  up  a  wounded 
jaguar,  it  gave  opportunity  for  quicker  action. 
And  so,  much  to  my  dismay,  I  had  hrought  the 
shotgun.  How,  for  just  that  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond, my  thoughts  turned  longingly  to  the  old 
rifle ;  for  the  distance,  though  not  great,  was  still 
too  far  to  shoot  with  any  degree  of  certainty  of 
killing  with  such  an  arm.  "Better  take  a  chance, 
while  I  have  it,  even  if  it  is  a  slim  one,"  I  thought. 
At  any  moment  the  crafty  fellow  might,  with  a 
single  bound,  disappear — and  perhaps  I  should 
never  again  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  beautifully 
spotted  hide.  I  intended,  after  shooting  the  first 
barrel,  to  instantly  shoot  the  second,  even  if  I  had 
to  make  a  wing  shot  while  he  was  in  the  air,  so  to 
speak;  but  there  was  no  chance.  At  the  instant 
of  the  first  shot  he  had  vanished  with  a  wild 
leap  that  was  so  lightning-like  that  the  eye  could 
scarce  follow. 

Reloading  and  slipping  to  the  ground,  I 
paused  at  the  butt  of  the  tree  to  catch  the  slight- 
est sound  or  movement.  There  was  neither. 
Then  out  along  the  Mora  log,  with  the  gun  at 
the  ready,  I  stepped  cautiously  along.  A  big 
lizard  went  scuttling  over  some  dead  leaves.    Up 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR         73 

went  the  gun,  and  I  almost  let  off  the  right  bar- 
rel. Near  the  end  of  the  great  log  a  few  dots  of 
scarlet  caught  my  eye.  He  was  hit — there  was 
no  doubt  of  that.  Ever  so  carefully,  step  by 
step,  and  scanning  carefully  every  possible  foot 
of  the  way,  I  took  up  his  trail.  Twice  I  lost  it, 
and  twice  I  turned  back  and  puzzled  it  out  again. 
Now  and  then  I  could  see  his  footprints  plainly 
in  the  soft  soil,  and  occasionally  a  spot  of  blood. 
Then  the  ground  became  harder,  and  the  blood 
spots  fewer  and  further  apart,  until  I  finally 
lost  all  trace;  made  a  circle  back  to  pick  up  the 
trail  again,  missed  it,  tried  again  and  again,  and 
then  tried  to  find  my  way  back  to  the  tree  where 
I  had  been  watching.  In  an  hour  more  there  was 
no  use  trying  to  fool  myself,  though  I  hated  to 
accept  it  as  a  fact.  I  was  lost;  and  what  was 
more,  at  almost  this  moment  there  came  a  ver- 
itable tropical  downpour.  Before  the  torrents  of 
rain  pelted  down  and  drenched  me  through  I 
was  in  a  dripping  perspiration,  but  now  the  sud- 
den wetting  had  thrown  me  into  a  violent  chill, 
shaking  so  from  head  to  foot  I  was  compelled  to 
put  my  gun  down  for  fear  of  dropping  it. 

So  far  I  had  escaped  fever,  but  this  occurrence 
was  almost  sure  to  bring  on  fever  that  would  go 
raging  and  surging  until  it  ran  its  course — one 


74  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

way  or  the  other.  To  put  it  mildly,  my  prospects 
were  not  good.  At  length  the  rain  passed  over, 
but  every  few  minutes  I  would  be  seized  with 
another  chill.  When  I  realized  that  I  was  in  a 
maze  out  of  which  no  human  being  could  possibly 
find  his  way,  excepting  it  were  a  native  Indian, 
a  horror  of  loneliness  gripped  me  as  I  felt  myself 
being  completely  swallowed  up  in  the  immensity 
of  the  jungle. 

Could  John  Charley  trail  me  after  that  sea  of 
rain  had  swept  away  every  sign  ?  I  didn't  know. 
But  I  did  know  that  every  bit  of  wild  craft  he 
possessed  would  be  taxed  to  its  utmost  to  do  so. 
I  climbed  high  up  in  a  tree  to  see  if  some  solution 
of  my  predicament  would  present  itself. 

The  sun  was  slowly  sinking  below  the  great, 
undulating  roof  of  the  jungle;  the  prospect  of 
spending  the  night  in  such  an  ill-chosen  place  was 
gradually  commencing  to  assert  itself.  As  I 
stared  out  over  these  fastnesses  my  heart  was 
smitten  with  a  sudden  sense  of  infinite  and  eter- 
nal desolation.  Then  I  felt  another  chill  coming 
on,  so  I  quickly  slid  to  the  ground.  Pale  shapes 
took  form  before  my  vision — made  and  unmade 
themselves — the  whole  jungle  swayed,  moved  a 
pace  forward,  then  back;  I  was  in  the  grip  of  the 
jungle  fever !    After  a  short  interval  I  recovered 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         75 

my  strength  sufficiently  to  move  on  again.  Walk- 
ing over  to  the  gnarly  roots  of  a  giant  tree,  I  sat 
down  to  "take  stock"  of  my  chances.  "A  man 
should  never  give  up  until  he  is  quite  dead,"  I 
would  say  slowly,  which  seemed  to  have  a  slightly 
stimulating  effect.  Taking  a  deep  hreath,  I  sent 
a  long,  loud  call  chasing  through  the  jungle,  and 
when  it  ceased  it  struck  me  that  it  had  something 
of  the  tone  in  it  that  reminded  me  of  a  lone  wolf 
bewailing  the  loss  of  his  mate.  I  then  listened 
intently,  straining  my  ears  to  catch  the  slightest 
sound.  Suddenly  a  heavy,  hissing  breath  close 
behind  me  made  me  whip  around  with  a  sensation 
of  the  hair  rising  on  my  scalp.  Not  more  than 
a  few  paces  away  was  coiled  a  huge  boa  constric- 
tor in  the  low  branch  of  a  tree,  with  his  head 
protruding  too  unpleasantly  near,  and  eyeing  me 
with  a  pair  of  cold,  unwinking,  malignant  eyes. 
A  forked,  colorless,  flickering  tongue  added  to 
his  heinous  appearance.  Fickle  fate  seemed  piti- 
lessly and  endlessly  whimsical.  What  would  hap- 
pen next? 

The  deadly  contents  of  the  shotgun  flew  out 
and  quite  demolished  his  whole  head.  And  then 
slowly  his  great  coils  unwound,  and  gracefully 
even  in  death,  they  slid  to  the  ground  until  the  tail 
finally  came  down  with  a  flip.     I  couldn't  help 


76  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

but  smile  when  the  thought  struck  me,  that  I 
would  have  fresh  meat,  at  any  rate.  Then  once 
more  came  the  mysterious  whispering,  terrifying 
silence.  But  now  a  sharp  sound  came  up  from 
the  depths  of  the  gloom,  for  the  light  was  pallid 
now,  and  still  another  sharp  sound.  Then  I  hal- 
looed long  and  loud — and  waited ;  like  an  echo  it 
rolled  back  through  the  jungle.  There  was  no 
mistaking  it  now — it  was  John  Charley  coming 
with  the  dogs.  .  .  . 

^  ^  4&  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

By  dint  of  unparalleled  paddling,  even  all 
through  the  long  starry  nights,  my  men  landed 
me  in  Georgetown  before  my  fever  had  pro- 
gressed too  far.  With  the  attendance  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  kindness  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.  L. 
Lockwood  (who  were  on  a  visit  from  New 
York),  I  was  soon  on  my  feet  again  and  plan- 
ning another  hunt  for  the  elusive  jaguar. 

One  hundred  miles  to  the  east,  and  extending 
up  from  the  coast,  are  the  vast  savannah  lands, 
that  roll  away  for  miles  upon  miles.  Their  pro- 
portions are  so  great  that  no  one  even  tries  to 
indicate  their  enormity.  Clothed  with  a  luxuriant 
growth  of  grass,  that  waves  and  bends  majesti- 
cally as  the  winds  ever  and  anon  go  singing  and 
dancing  across  their  vast  reaches,  they  make  ex- 


HUIN^TING   THE    JAGUAR        77; 

cellent  pasturage  for  the  few  cattle  that  have 
been  turned  out  for  the  experiment  of  stock- 
raising.  There  M^as  one,  big  Jack  Haley,  who 
had  started  a  cattle  ranch  out  in  this  very  savan- 
nah country,  and  word  had  come  to  me  that  a 
jaguar  was  playing  havoc  with  his  stock.  With 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  big  Jack,  and  rifle  in 
hand,  I  rolled  out  of  Georgetown  on  the  only 
railroad  in  the  colony,  headed  due  east  for  Ber- 
bice,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Berbice  River,  and  the 
terminus  of  the  road.  Just  where  I  was  going 
and  how  I  was  going  to  find  this  Haley  fellow, 
my  ideas  were  very  vague.  But,  at  any  rate,  I 
was  perfectly  content  with  the  mere  thought 
that  I  was  on  my  way. 

The  iron  horse  commenced  to  eat  up  the  miles, 
and  then  gradually  the  jungle  gave  place  to  these 
endless  lowlands  of  grass,  and  occasionally  there 
were  what  looked  like  islands  of  trees  in  the  midst 
of  a  quivering  sea.  A  feeling  of  great  joy  came 
over  me  as  I  looked  far  away  into  space.  From 
being  in  the  jungle  so  long,  I  had  felt  penned 
up,  and  now  that  feeling  had  vanished.  Then 
another  little  thrill  came  over  me  as  the  landscape 
brought  back  pleasant  memories  of  the  old  days 
on  the  cattle  range. 

At  the  end  of  the  route  inquiries  for  Jack 


78  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

Haley  failed  to  disclose  much  information,  but 
finally  a  man  volunteered  to  drive  me  to  the  house 
where  Haley  stopped  when  he  was  in  town.  At 
the  end  of  a  four-mile  drive  we  pulled  up  at  quite 
a  sizable  house,  with  a  high  veranda. 

IMounting"  the  steps,  I  was  met  by  a  tall,  dark, 
handsome  girl  ("Bet  a  nickel  that's  Haley's  sis- 
ter," I  said  to  myself) .  "I  have  a  letter  of  in- 
troduction to  Mr.  Jack  Haley,"  I  said,  and  then 
added,  "Is  he  home?"  There  was  a  slight  pause, 
during  which  I  managed  to  slide  off  my  hat. 

"Yes — that  is,  my  brother  is  back  from  the 
ranch — and  though  he  isn't  in  just  now  I  expect 
him  any  moment,"  she  said  in  a  pleasant  voice. 
"He's  goin'  right  back  to  the  ranch  to-morrow," 
she  continued;  "he  just  came  up  to  town  to  get 
some  hounds." 

"Hounds!"  I  exclaimed,  evincing  perfect  sur- 
prise. "Why,  what  is  he  going  to  do  with  them?" 
I  asked. 

"Well,  there  is  a  big  tiger  (jaguar)  killin'  his 
stock  out  at  the  ranch,  and  he  is  going  to  use  the 
hounds  to  hunt  him." 

Someone  closed  the  gate  w^ith  a  bang  and 
swTing  down  the  path  with  long  strides.  Then 
Jack  Haley  came  up  the  steps,  three  at  a  time; 
and  well  he  might,  for  he  stood  six  foot  six  in  his 


HUNTING   THE   JAGUAR        81 

socks.  He  was  lithe,  well-built,  dark-skinned, 
dark-eyed,  and  had  a  tangle  of  dark  hair.  In  a 
word,  I  liked  Jack  Haley  the  moment  I  clapped 
my  eyes  on  him ;  and  when  he  laughed  there  was 
a  mischievous  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  his  teeth 
gleamed  with  their  very  whiteness. 

Day  broke  over  the  River  Berbice.  The  sun 
rose  pale  yellow,  and  the  dirty,  oily  waters  re- 
flected the  brazen  glimmer  of  the  sky.  Over  the 
unresponsive  desolation  came  the  chug-chug-chug 
of  a  gasoline  launch.  Haley,  the  writer  and  the 
hounds  were  sliding  upstream — that  is,  when  the 
engine  didn't  refuse  to  work. 

The  scene  was  unvaried  and  monotonous; 
along  the  banks  grew  a  fringe  of  brush,  beyond 
this  sloped  away  the  vast  savannah  lands  that 
were,  during  the  rainy  season,  for  the  most  part 
submerged.  In  the  late  afternoon  we  slid  into 
a  small  quay  and  tied  up.  A  little  ranch  house 
overlooked  the  ri:  er  and  stood  on  four  large  posts, 
which  raised  it  some  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground. 
It  consisted  only  of  one  room,  with  an  enclosed, 
latticed  veranda  in  the  front,  where  we  swung 
our  hammocks.  Below  were  two  or  three  native, 
palm-leaf -thatched  huts.  In  these  lived  the  men 
who  looked  after  the  cattle;  also  a  coolie  boy 


82  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

(Booklaul  by  name),  who  did  the  cooking  and 
acted  as  general  house  servant. 

Soon  the  not  unpleasant  odor  of  cooking  was 
wafted  up  our  way,  and  shortly  Booklaul  ap- 
peared with  two  steaming  pots — one  of  boiled 
ant-bear,  the  other  of  boiled  monkey.  Aside 
from  the  name,  which  is  a  little  startling  at  first, 
I  found  them  very  good.  Adding  to  this  cassava 
bread  and  baked  plantain,  we  had  a  very  enjoy- 
able and  typically  tropical  dinner.  The  meal 
over,  we  extinguished  the  lamp,  to  discourage  the 
mosquitoes,  and  sat  talking  in  the  dark. 

"He  is  the  very  devil  himself,  this  tiger  with 
the  cattle  appetite,"  remarked  Haley,  as  he  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  rolling  a  cigarette,  then  the 
match,  flaring  up,  bathed  his  dark  face  in  a 
pinkish  glow.  "He  has  killed  over  twenty  head 
in  the  last  few  months,"  he  continued;  "he  knows 
just  as  well  as  we  do  that  he  is  on  dangerous 
ground,  and  he  seems  to  possess  the  craft  and 
cunning  of  the  old  boy  himself  while  he  is  carry- 
ing on  his  diabolical  work.  Why,  he'll  make  two 
or  three  'kills'  in  a  week,  and  then,  perhaps,  he 
won't  show  up  for  a  month;  or  he  may  kill  to- 
night, and  then  he  may  shift  ten  miles  to-morrow. 
Out  of  a  score  of  these  fellows  I've  killed,  this 


HUNTING    THE    JAGUAR         83 

one  seems  to  be  the  most  mysterious  and  elusive 
of  them  all." 

Taking  a  long  pull  on  his  cigarette,  he  went  on 
again:  "JNIy  foreman  tells  me  this  tiger  mauled 
a  cow  this  morning,  just  cut  her  all  to  ribbons, 
but  he  must  have  missed  his  spring  by  a  little  and 
landed  too  far  back.  The  cow  managed  to  get 
clear  of  him,  and  the  man  put  her  in  the  corral, 
but  they  say  she  may  not  pull  through.  This  is 
the  first  miscalculation  I  have  even  known  him 
to  make.  He  has  always  planned  his  attacks  so 
well  that  his  execution  has  been  quick  and  clean. 
He  works  his  game  something  like  this,"  Haley 
went  on.  "About  six  or  seven  miles  from  here 
there  is  a  long  strip  of  jungle  running  through 
the  savannah  and  from  this  strip  extend  several 
long  arms  of  thick  woods,  which  are,  perhaps, 
from  one  to  two  miles  apart.  It  is  down  these 
strips  this  marauder,  lurking  under  their  cover, 
waits  for  the  cattle  to  feed  near  enough  to  single 
out  his  victim.  It  will  take  two  or  three  days  to 
hunt  tliese  strips  of  jungle  properly,  and  if  old 
Spots  is  still  up  to  his  tricks  we  are  almost  sure 
to  pick  him  up." 

Plaley  rose  and  went  to  his  hammock  for  the 
night.  For  a  few  moments  I  sat  in  a  sort  of 
dreamy  thought.     The  place  was  so  decidedly 


84  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

alien,  while  the  night  and  surroundings  seemed 
so  weird  that,  for  the  moment,  I  did  not  feel  like 
retiring.  Borrowing  some  of  Jack's  tobacco  that 
lay  on  the  table,  I  rolled  a  cigarette  and  leaned 
out  of  the  window. 

The  night  was  beautiful,  serene  and  clear.  A 
languid  moon  hung  listlessly  over  the  savannah, 
a  few  nights  from  the  full.  The  voices  that  I 
had  grown  accustomed  to  hear  rise  up  out  of  the 
jungle  night  after  night  were  here,  for  the  most 
part,  absent;  but  they  were  replaced  by  other 
sounds.  From  far  down  the  stream  came  the 
dismal  booming^of  the  alligators,  while  the  frogs, 
with  their  bass  voices,  rose  in  deep  chorus ;  then  a 
long-eared  owl  with  fitful  song  awoke  the  super- 
stitutions  of  the  night  that  froze  all  the  small 
fry  such  as  the  dormouse  and  field  mice  to  stone, 
for  they  well  knew  their  worst  enemy  was  at 
hand.  Then  there  came  another  sound  that  made 
me  stop  short  in  the  middle  of  a  puff.  I  had 
heard  it  once  before;  intently  I  listened.  Pres- 
ently, through  the  desolation  of  the  moonlit  night, 
came  the  distant,  vibrating  roar  of  a  jaguar. 
"The  very  skin  I  am  after,"  I  told  myself,  "and 
I'll  have  his  hide  before  that  moon  is  full!" 

It  seemed  I  had  only  been  in  my  hammock  a 
very  short  time  when   I  heard  Haley  saying, 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        85 

"Come  on,  it's  three  o'clock;  we've  got  to  walk 
over  a  mile  to  catch  the  horses,  and  we  want  to  be 
hunting  before  sun-up." 

We  rode  straight  away  to  the  south,  where  the 
faint  outhne  of  a  strip  of  jungle  showed  against 
the  sky.  "How  does  it  feel  to  be  in  the  saddle 
again?"  asked  big  Jack. 

"Feel?  Why,  it's  got  struggling  along 
through  the  jungle  on  foot  beaten  forty  ways," 
said  I. 

"By  thunder,"  broke  in  Jack.  "I  wonder 
what's  struck  those  dogs !  Look  at  'em  go !  And 
none  of  'em  saying  a  word,  none  of  'em  singing, 
and  running  a  blue  streak!" 

Jack  pulled  up  and  stood  upright  on  his  horse's 
back  in  order  to  get  a  better  view.  "There  they 
go!"  continued  Jack,  pointing  over  the  savannah, 
"headed  for  that  neck  of  wood.  Come  on,  you 
Yankee  cowpuncher;  let's  see  you  ride,"  Jack 
sung  out  as  we  broke  into  a  run. 

"You  don't  call  this  riding,  do  you — a  little 
run  over  a  level  piece  of  ground?"  I  whipped 
out.  "Why,  out  West,  we  just  call  this  'pleasure 
ridin'.' "  Jack  grinned,  and  his  white  teeth 
glinted  in  the  early  light.  The  hounds,  after  run- 
ning in  grim  silence,  now  gave  tongue  in  loud 
chorus,  while  we  were  running  on  the  inside  of  a 


86  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

wide  circle  of  their  trail,  fast  picking  them  up 
with  every  bound. 

It  was  a  tight  finish  right  up  to  the  woods,  with 
the  quarry  just  ahead.  What  was  the  quarry? 
Jack  didn't  say,  and  I  didn't  know.  "Come  on," 
said  Jack  as  we  pulled  our  horses  up,  and  slid  off 
to  enter  the  bush.  "It's  shooting  time,"  he  added. 
The  hounds  were  only  a  few  yards  in  the  woods 
and  barking  treed.  We  stepped  along  gingerly 
into  the  woods,  and  soon,  upon  looking  up,  we 
saw,  flattened  on  the  branch  of  a  flamboyant  tree, 
an  ocelot,  staring  down  with  a  slow,  evil,  insolent 
stare.  Then  his  eyes  blazed  with  hate  and  fury; 
for  his  inches  his  disposition  is  a  very  wicked  one, 
and  even  a  young  calf  does  not  come  amiss  to  his 
killing  propensities.  After  despatching  this 
handsomely  marked  little  chap,  who  is  second  in 
beauty  of  all  the  cats  in  the  New  World,  we  con- 
tinued our  hunting. 

We  carefully  beat  through  three  long  strips 
of  jungle.  But  no  fresh  sign  rewarded  us;  and 
so  it  was  on  the  second  day.  After  hunting  care- 
fully we  returned  to  the  ranch  without  finding  a 
trace  of  the  crafty  fellow.  The  third  day  was 
going  very  much  the  same,  and  it  was  waxing 
along  in  the  afternoon  when  we  rode  across  the 
savannah  to  hunt  the  last  strip  of  likely  looking 


Jack  pulled   up   and  stood   uj)rlglit  on   his  horse's  back   in  order 
to  get  a  better  view. 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR         89 

bush.  The  cattle,  grazing  peacefully,  only  stop- 
ped now  and  again  to  gaze  at  us  inquiringly.  As 
we  rode  by  I  could  not  help  admiring  their  splen- 
did condition,  for  I  was  not  aware  that  cattle 
thrived  so  well  in  the  tropics. 

Another  mile,  and  we  were  at  the  edge  of  the 
strip  of  jungle.  Jack's  brow  grew  dark — his 
lips  tight  set,  his  dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  some- 
thing half-hidden  in  the  bush.  A  fresh  "kill,"  he 
said  at  last;  "done  to-day,  not  ten  hours  old.  We 
ought  to  get  this  fellow  now,  if  we  ever  do." 

The  hounds  came  up,  and  as  they  sniffed  the 
evil  scent  their  hair  bristled  along  their  backs. 
Then  Star,  the  biggest  and  boldest  of  the  lot,  led 
out,  with  the  others  following  through  the  jungle, 
and  then  their  quavering  chorus  rose  until  the 
whole  woods  echoed  with  the  din  of  the  wild  chase. 
The  jungle  was  thick  and  the  going  diflicult. 
Jack  went  on  ahead  with  the  cutlass,  for  the 
tangle  of  vines  and  creepers  made  it  impossible 
to  force  a  way  without  continually  wielding  the 
cutlass. 

The  hounds  had  evidently  stopped  short,  for 
we  could  hear  the  whole  pack,  not  fifty  yards 
ahead,  while  the  wailing  and  clamor  that  smote 
our  ears  assured  us  that  just  beyond,  in  that  in- 
tricate and  tangled  mass  of  almost  inconceivable 


90  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

thick  cover,  that  savage,  crafty  and  powerful 
lord,  the  jaguar,  was  facing  the  pack.  At  this 
ill-timed  moment  Jack  leaped  back,  nearly 
knocking  me  to  the  ground ;  his  face  went  white. 
"Shoot,"  he  said,  for  he  was  carrying  nothing  but 
the  cutlass.  I  saw  nothing  to  shoot  at,  but  a 
second  glance  revealed  a  coil  of  a  dozen  feet  of 
the  most  dreaded  of  all  snakes — the  "bushmas- 
ter."  The  treacherous-looking  reptile  appeared 
so  enraged  at  our  intrusion  that  an  attack  seemed 
almost  certain.  But  in  his  moment  of  hesitancy 
it  was  averted  by  giving  him  an  undisputed  right 
of  way  and  changing  our  course,  for  I  did  not 
want  to  shoot  at  that  moment,  fearing  that  the 
report  might  spoil  my  opportunity  just  ahead — 
for  which  I  had  come  so  far  and  which  seemed  al- 
most within  my  grasp. 

The  moments  were  precious  now;  the  baleful 
chorus  of  the  hounds  warned  us  the  quarry  was 
within  a  stone's  throw;  yet  we  could  see  nothing. 
Then  my  eye  lit  upon  something  that  held  me  for 
a  long  moment  arrested,  motionless.  Close  along 
a  bough,  its  ears  flat  against  its  neck,  its  tail 
twitching,  its  lips  drawn  back  from  its  yeUow 
fangs  in  a  vicious  snarl,  lay  the  handsomest 
jaguar  I  ever  saw.  From  between  their  wide 
lids  his  eyes  blazed  into  mine,  as  I  raised  my  gun 


HUNTING   THE    JAGUAR        93 

to  my  shoulder,  took  careful  aim  and  fired.  The 
claws  relaxed  their  hold;  slowly  the  great  body 
rolled  over  and  fell  into  the  midst  of  the  frenzied 
pack.  But,  before  I  could  take  a  forward  step, 
the  huge  cat  had  leaped  to  its  feet — I  had  aimed 
too  high:  the  bullet  penetrating  the  upper  part 
of  the  shoulder.  Into  the  wild  melee  I  dared 
not  fire,  though  my  soul  sickened  at  each  light- 
ning stroke  of  those  terrible  paws. 

At  last  my  moment  came — for  an  instant  the 
dogs  drew  back.  Before  they  could  again  rush 
in,  my  second  bullet  crashed  through  his  brain. 

The  cattle-killer  had  paid  his  debt — many  lives 
had  he  asked — now  he  had  paid  with  his  own. 

He  was  a  male  in  splendid  condition,  and  the 
tape  showed  him  to  be  six  feet  ten  inches  in 
length.  The  day  was  fast  declining,  so  we  hastily 
started  back  through  the  waving,  bending  sea  of 
grass  for  the  ranch. 

The  sun  was  just  going  to  rest  after  a  terrific 
day's  work,  trying  to  burn  up  the  world.  The 
western  sky  was  aflame  with  gold  and  crimson, 
while  the  fire-bolts  leaped  to  the  world  below. 
Then  the  sun  went  lurid  down.  Slowly  came  the 
evening's  changes,  softly  falls  the  mellow  twi- 
light, until  the  waning  light  has  fled — then  every- 
where stalks  the  mystic  night. 


94  BIG   GAJVIE    FIELDS 

'Big  Jack  Haley's  hulk,  with  his  slouch  hat  at 
a  careless  angle,  loomed  up  before  me  as  we  filed 
back  in  silence.  Then  as  we  went  over  a  slight 
rise,  he  and  his  horse  became  a  clear-cut  silhouette 
against  the  star-dust  seeded  sky.  Away  in  the 
east  a  thin  silvery  light  flooded  the  sky — a  full 
moon  was  rising.  Then  across  the  vast  and  over- 
powering loneliness  of  the  stupendous  savannah 
waste  the  vagrant  winds  whispered  soft  and  low. 
They  were  sweetly  solemn — wildly  sad. 


Ill 

NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  JAGUAR 

The  hunting  and  study  of  big  game  in  Amer- 
ica are  becoming  more  popular  each  year.  It  is 
almost  invariably  the  case  that  when  a  man  de- 
cides to  make  a  trip  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
one  of  our  many  big-game  animals  he  is  desirous 
of  learning  something  of  the  natural  history  of 
the  animal  he  selects.  If  he  does  not,  he  ought 
to.  Such  questions  invariably  present  themselves 
as  "Where  does  this  animal  range?"  "What 
length  do  they  attain?"  "Of  what  does  their 
food  consist?"  and  innumerable  other  questions, 
as  he  finds  a  growing  interest. 

Much  has  been  written  of  the  lion  and  tiger, 
but  I  find  very  little,  indeed,  on  the  world's  third 
largest  feline — the  jaguar.  Nowhere  have  I  seen 
an  account  that  cited  at  all  completely  the  natural 
history  of  this  superb  animal,  which  belongs  to 
the  fauna  of  the  United  States.  Occasionally 
one  may  see  an  article  giving  a  very  good  descrip- 
tion of  his  appearance,  with  possibly  some  other 

97 


98  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

good  points,  and  again  we  may  read  of  the  ani- 
mal's disposition  and  savageness.  But  I  think  a 
concise  account  covering  the  habits,  range  and 
characteristics  may  prove  of  interest. 

The  jaguar  {Felis  onca)  is  the  largest  of  all 
the  spotted  cats,  being  next  in  size  to  the  tiger, 
but  second  to  none  in  fierceness.  South  of  the 
Rio  Grande  it  is  usually  called  "El  Tigre"  (pro- 
nounced teagre),  which  is  Spanish  for  tiger. 
Though  more  essentially  inter-tropical  than  most 
of  the  large  felines,  its  range  at  one  time  extend- 
ed as  far  north  and  east  as  Arkansas,  and  James 
Capen  Adams,  better  known,  perhaps,  as  "Griz- 
zly Adams,"  states  that  in  the  year  1854,  in  the 
mountains  of  Southern  Colorado,  he  met  a  pair 
of  jaguars,  followed  by  two  cubs.  He  shot  and 
wounded  the  female,  which  finally  escaped  after 
severely  mauling  his  favorite  dog,  Rambler. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  jaguar 
ranged  as  far  north  as  latitude  37,  but,  like  many 
other  of  our  large-game  animals,  has  gradually 
receded  before  the  trend  of  civilization.  Of  late 
years  a  few  have  been  taken  in  Arizona,  and  in 
1910  I  learned  of  one  being  shot  in  Central  West- 
ern Texas.  At  the  present  writing  there  are  still 
a  few  jaguars  within  the  borders  of  the  United 
States,  but  to  meet  with  one  is  becoming  a  rare 


^'^jg^'^/*^^^ 


,; 


(;■ 


HISTORY   OF    THE    JAGUAR  101 

occurrence.  From  the  Rio  Grande  south  they 
become  more  plentiful,  ranging  through  Mexico, 
Central  America,  and  as  far  south  as  Patagonia 
in  South  America. 

The  true  home  of  the  jaguar,  however,  seems 
to  be  in  the  thickly  wooded  jungle  country  of 
South  America  and  usually  not  far  from  water. 
Here  he  reigns  supreme,  the  lord  of  the  jungle. 
Don  Felix  de  Azara  states  that  when  the  Spanish 
first  settled  in  the  district  between  Montevideo 
and  Santa  Fe,  as  many  as  two  thousand  men  were 
killed  yearly.  This  seems  almost  incredible,  but 
I  have  no  doubt  at  that  early  date  many  suc- 
cumbed to  the  attacks  of  El  Tigre.  Charles  Dar- 
win found  this  species  in  great  numbers  living  in 
the  basin  of  the  La  Plata  River  in  the  reed  belts 
along  the  shores  of  the  lakes  and  rivers.  Unlike 
the  puma,  jaguars  seem  to  require  a  constant  sup- 
ply of  water.  In  contradiction  of  this,  and  show- 
ing a  well-known  fact  that  animals  will  frequent- 
ly alter  their  generally  conceded  habits,  accord- 
ing to  their  changed  surroundings,  the  jaguar  is 
found  on  the  great  pampas  to  the  north  of  Pata- 
gonia, a  place  totally  unfitted  to  its  usual  habits, 
where  it  has  been  attracted  by  the  abundance  of 
mammalian  prey,  to  inhabit  those  cold,  treeless 
and  desolate  tracts. 


102  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

So  much  for  the  animal's  distribution.  We 
may  now  note  his  appearance  and  conformation 
compared  with  that  of  the  leopard.  Few  animals 
can  surpass  the  jaguar  in  point  of  beauty,  and 
none  in  agility  or  stealth.  His  every  motion  is 
easy  and  flexible  in  the  highest  degree,  he  bounds 
among  the  rocks  and  trees  with  an  agility  truly 
surprising;  now  stealing  along  the  ground  with 
the  silence  of  a  snake,  now  crouching  with  fore- 
paws  extended  and  his  head  laid  between  them, 
while  his  checkered  tail  twitches  impatiently  and 
his  eyes  glare  upon  his  expected  victim. 

At  first  glance  one  might  mistake  the  jaguar 
for  a  heavily  built  leopard.  In  form  the  jaguar 
is  thick-set ;  it  does  not  stand  as  high  at  the  shoul- 
der as  the  puma,  but  is  a  far  more  powerful  ani- 
mal. His  skull  resembles  that  of  the  lion  and 
tiger,  but  is  much  broader  in  proportion  to  his 
length,  and  may  be  identified  by  the  presence  of 
a  tubercle  on  the  inner  edge  of  the  orbid. 

The  ground  color  of  the  jaguar  varies  greatly, 
ranging  from  grayish  white  to  black,  while  the 
rosette  markings  in  the  two  extremes  are  but 
faintly  visible.  The  typical  color,  however,  is 
golden  yellow,  or  a  rich  tan  upon  the  head,  neck, 
body,  outside  of  legs  and  tail  near  the  root.  The 
upper  part  of  the  head  and  sides  of  the  face  are 


(J 


HISTORY    OF    THE    JAGUAR  105 

thickly  marked  with  small,  black  spots,  and  the 
rest  of  the  body  is  covered  with  rosettes  formed 
of  rings  of  black  spots,  with  an  occasional  black 
spot  in  the  center,  and  arranged  lengthwise  along 
the  body  in  five  to  seven  rows  on  each  side.  The 
black  markings  are  heaviest  along  the  back.  All 
the  under  parts  and  inside  of  the  legs  are  pure 
white,  marked  with  occasional  spots  of  black. 
From  the  root  of  the  tail,  extending  halfway,  are 
large  spots,  some  enclosing  light  centers,  and 
from  about  midway  to  the  tip  it  is  ringed  with 
black.  The  ears  are  black,  with  a  buff  spot  at 
the  tip.  The  nose  is  usually  a  pinkish  brown.  I 
have  seen  some  quite  pink,  while  others  were  de- 
cidedly more  brown.  Some  specimens  I  have  seen 
from  Mexico  have  the  small  spots  which  ordinar- 
ily constitute  the  rings,  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  one  another,  so  that  complete  rings  or  ro- 
settes only  occasionally  appear.  The  fleshy  part 
of  the  lips  is  black,  which,  when  parted,  make 
the  cruel,  white  fangs  stand  out  in  contrast. 

The  total  average  length  of  a  fine  specimen  is 
from  6^4  to  7%  feet,  the  males  averaging  a  foot 
longer  than  the  females.  The  tail  is  much  shorter 
compared  to  that  of  the  leopard,  and  in  a  large 
male  seldom  occupies  m.ore  than  2  feet  2  inches 
of  its  length.    The  girth  of  the  chest  is  about  3 


106  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

feet,  and  the  weight,  depending  on  the  condition 
of  the  animal,  might  be  from  160  to  200  pounds, 
and  in  some  cases  this  may  be  exceeded,  but  I  am 
speaking  of  an  average,  full-grown  animal. 

Felis  onca  has  been  divided  into  a  number  of 
local  forms,  regarded  by  some  as  distinct  species, 
but  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  they  should  be 
ranked  merely  as  sub-species.  H.  H.  Smith  and 
others  look  upon  the  black  jaguar  of  the  Brazil- 
ian highlands  as  a  distinct  species  and  one  whose 
range  is  different  from  that  of  the  spotted  ani- 
mal. W.  N.  Lockington  is  one  of  several  author- 
ities who  consider  that  there  may  be  several  true 
species  besides  geographical  varieties.  After  a 
careful  research  I  am  convinced  that  the  black 
jaguar  is  but  a  melanoid  of  the  true  jaguar,  just 
as  the  black  bears  and  leopards  enjoy  a  decided 
color  variation,  notwithstanding  that  in  certain 
sections  those  of  a  decidedly  different  color  will 
predominate.  I  find  that,  with  few  exceptions, 
the  world's  supply  of  black  leopards  comes  from 
the  vicinity  of  Singapore,  yet  they  are  merely  a 
color  variation  of  the  true  leopard  {Felis  pardus) . 
A  spotted  female  jaguar  has  been  known  to  pro- 
duce at  one  time  black  and  at  another  spotted 
kittens.  This  would  indicate  that  these  varia- 
tions are  merely  a  caprice  of  nature.     In  many 


HISTORY   OF    THE    JAGUAR  107 

cases  the  environment  seems  to  influence  the  color 
of  the  pelage,  and  those  found  in  the  more  open 
country  show  a  ground  color  of  a  decidedly 
lighter  shade,  while  those  found  in  the  thick, 
gloomy  forests  are  much  darker. 

In  Africa  the  leopards  found  in  the  hills  are 
invariably  larger  than  those  found  in  the  low- 
lands, and  are  still  considered  by  some  to  be  a 
different  species.  The  larger  ones  are  referred 
to  as  the  panther,  but  they  are  in  reality  all  leop- 
ards. As  with  the  jaguar,  in  some  sections  both 
the  size  and  color  and  even  the  habits  differ  to 
such  an  extent  that  many  mistake  them  for  a 
separate  species.  The  ocelot,  that  sleek,  crafty 
little  fellow,  occupying  very  much  the  same 
range  as  the  jaguar,  is  the  only  felis  that  might 
at  a  hasty  glance  be  mistaken  for  a  small  jaguar; 
but  even  to  the  inexperienced  the  difference  is  so 
marked  that  they  are  not  likely  to  be  confounded. 
The  black  markings  of  the  ocelot  are  elongated 
and  running  horizontally  along  the  body,  some- 
times extending  several  inches  unbroken,  while 
the  ground  color  is  usually  a  grayish  white,  and 
they  seldom  exceed  three  feet  in  length. 

In  some  sections  the  jaguar  is  to  a  great  extent 
arboreal  in  habit,  passing  hither  and  thither  along 
the  matted  roof  of  the  jungle,  where  the  trees 


108  BIG    GAIME    FIELDS 

are  linked  and  joined  together  by  means  of  the 
bush-rope,  a  vine  peculiar  to  South  America  and 
growing  sometimes  to  the  thickness  of  a  man's 
body.  Frequently  the  jaguar  is  forced  to  take 
to  arboreal  life  during  the  rainy  season,  or  floods, 
and,  as  may  be  expected,  climbs  well  among  the 
trees  and  branches.  Here,  instead  of  his  retreat 
being  a  rocky  cavern  which  he  uses  as  a  lair,  in 
one  place,  he  "lays  up"  upon  a  huge  branch 
where  the  thick,  gnarled  foliage  shuts  out  the 
sizzling  sun,  and  here  he  can  doze  quietly  through 
the  long,  sweltering  hours  of  the  day.  The  pupil 
of  the  jaguar  is  circular  and  is  not  adapted  to 
excess  light.  Like  all  the  felidce,  the  jaguar  is 
nocturnal  and  prowls  stealthily  at  about  sunset 
and  throughout  the  night  in  search  of  prey.  Oc- 
casionally, however,  they  are  abroad  by  day,  but 
this  is  not  their  custom. 

The  jaguar,  leaving  his  lair  shortly  after  sun- 
set for  his  night-long  prowl,  frequently  begins  to 
roar  like  a  lion,  and  again,  like  his  majesty,  con- 
tinues at  intervals  until  he  actually  begins  to 
hunt.  Jaguars  are  usually  noisy  animals,  espe- 
cially during  the  pairing  season  and  upon  stormy 
nights,  when  their  deep,  grating  roar  vibrates 
through  the  forest,  in  tones  conveying  the  im- 
pression of  great  power.    There  is  a  widespread 


PW^-' 


I    i^;^     J^'^f 


HISTORY    OF    THE    JAGUAR  111 

difference  of  opinion,  however,  as  to  the  tone  of 
his  voice  and  to  the  extent  he  employs  it,  some 
insisting  that  the  great  cat  is  decidedly  silent.  He 
may  be  quiet  or  noisy,  depending  on  locality, 
season,  weather  and  other  conditions  which  may 
or  may  not  prompt  him  to  give  voice  to  his  sav- 
ageness.  The  English  naturalist,  Charles  Water- 
ton,  who  spent  ten  years  in  the  wilds  of  Guiana, 
wrote,  "During  the  night  the  jaguars  roared  and 
grumbled  in  the  forests  as  though  the  world  was 
going  wrong  with  them."  That  the  jaguar  can 
roar,  and  often  does  so  with  violence,  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  for  I  have  heard  his  coughing  roar 
both  in  the  open  and  in  captivity,  and  under  all 
modulations  his  voice  is  a  coarse  undertone,  and 
once  heard  cannot  be  easily  forgotten. 

Jaguars  are  indiscriminate  feeders  and  their 
appetite  is  a  ravenous  one;  so  long  as  an  animal 
has  blood  in  its  body,  whether  it  be  red  or  white, 
it  does  not  come  amiss  to  their  taste.  From  bugs 
and  lizards  to  all  quadrupeds  that  inhabit  their 
range  they  prey  upon  them  promiscuously,  in- 
cluding domestic  animals,  such  as  horses,  cattle, 
and  especially  calves  and  dogs.  In  some  sections 
of  South  America  they  seem  to  subsist  largely 
on  that  large  rodent,  the  capybara,  now  the  only 
remaining  representative  of  that  otherwise  ex- 


112  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

tinct  family.  In  the  tropics  they  also  capture  for 
food  the  tapir,  peccary,  agouti,  labbas,  marsh 
deer,  fowl,  and  consume  large  numbers  of  fresh- 
water turtles  and  their  eggs.  The  jaguar  swims 
well  and  does  not  hesitate  to  follow  turtles  or  alli- 
gators into  the  water  to  effect  their  capture.  Per- 
haps one  of  his  most  eccentric  propensities  is  the 
pursuit  of  the  cayman  or  alligator.  He  seems  to 
have  a  great  fondness  for  its  fishy  flavor.  Often 
the  great  cat,  by  a  dexterous  stroke  of  his  paw, 
will  flip  a  fish  from  the  water  up  on  the  bank, 
and  this  practice  seems  to  be  engaged  in  both 
for  sport  and  for  gain ;  for  all  animals,  no  matter 
how  serious  a  life  they  lead,  must  play  a  little 
some  time,  and  I  think  the  cat  family  particularly 
are  more  given  over  to  this. 

We  see  another  trait  where  the  jaguar  re- 
sembles his  cousin,  the  leopard,  in  their  mutual 
fondness  for  monkeys,  and  heavy  is  the  toll  ex- 
acted from  their  ranks.  Another  apparently 
savory  morsel  of  food  to  his  "spotship"  is  the  dog. 
The  cautious  approach  of  the  jaguar  is  so  wary 
that  an  unfortunate  canine  is  often  pinned  by 
the  neck  and  carried  off  before  it  is  aware  of  the 
presence  of  its  enemy.  While  hunting  one  year 
in  Mexico  my  guide  told  me  of  a  nearby  town 
where  the  dogs  had  been  almost  extirpated  by  the 


HISTORY   OF    THE    JAGUAR  113 

depredations  of  a  black  lion  (he  meant  a  black 
jaguar,  as  there  are  no  black  pumas).  The 
stealth  and  cunning  this  animal  displayed  so  com- 
pletely outwitted  his  pursuers  that  they  were 
never  able  to  circumvent  him,  but  several  had 
seen  the  black  mystery  as  he  would  momentarily 
appear  or  melt  into  the  surrounding  cover. 

I  do  not  think  the  jaguar  kills  as  many  deer 
as  the  puma,  but  they  are  much  more  destructive 
to  stock.  In  Sonora  several  stockmen  told  me 
they  suffered  great  losses  from  the  raids  of  El 
Tigre,  and  that  they  usually  selected  the  calves, 
while  the  puma  or  cougar  showed  a  preference 
for  colts.  I  cannot  take  space  to  mention  all  the 
animals  the  jaguar  frequently  preys  upon.  I 
must  not  omit  to  say,  however,  that,  although  he 
subsists  chiefly  upon  game,  he  hunts  men  also,  as 
might  be  expected  from  his  size  and  traits.  As 
there  are  man-eaters  among  leopards  and  tigers, 
so  there  are  man-eating  jaguars,  and  once  having 
tasted  human  flesh  and  finding  it  easier  to  kill  a 
man  than  almost  any  other  animal  that  will  af- 
ford him  a  meal,  under  favorable  conditions,  he 
acts  accordingly.  Cases  of  this  kind  are,  how- 
ever, rare,  and  are  more  confined  to  the  remote 
and  sparsely  inhabited  latitudes  where  the  poorly 
armed  native  is  no  match  for  a  beast  of  this  kind. 


114  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

but  where  they  have  come  to  learn  that  the  con- 
test between  the  properly  armed  man  is  an  un- 
equal one  there  is  not  so  much  to  be  feared. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  beforehand  what  any 
dangerous  animal  will  do  when  come  upon,  and 
anything  but  the  impossible  may  be  expected. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  individuality  among  wild 
animals,  and  no  two  of  the  same  species  ever 
are  exactly  alike  in  their  conduct.  Each  indi- 
vidual has  its  own  way  of  doing  things,  its  own 
moods  and  own  peculiar  temperament.  Prob- 
ably the  traits  that  are  more  marked  in  the  jaguar 
than  all  the  other  members  of  the  treacherous  cat 
tribe  are  their  deceit,  craftiness  and  treachery. 
Slyness,  stealth  and  cunning  are  written  in  their 
quick,  keen  glances,  from  their  lurid,  deadly 
looking  eyes,  and,  above  all,  their  movements  of 
deadly  quiet. 

There  are  innumerable  accounts  by  reliable 
men  of  instances  where  jaguars  have  attacked 
and  killed  human  beings  of  their  own  accord. 
There  are  too  many  records  showing  that  they 
have  turned  and  charged  when  come  upon,  or 
when  being  pursued  by  hunters.  It  is  my  opin- 
ion, however,  that,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  if 
they  are  given  an  option  on  the  safe  side  of  re- 
treat they  are  more  inclined  to  make  off.     If  the 


HISTORY   OF    THE    JAGUAR  115 

jaguar  does  intend  to  attack,  he  usually  does  so 
at  once,  and  without  the  usual  warning  of  the 
lion  and  tiger,  which  is  indicated  by  throwing 
the  tail  up,  baring  the  teeth  and  uttering  violent 
growls.  The  great  spotted  cat  runs  with  belly 
almost  to  the  ground  with  lightning-like  rapidity 
until  it  is  within  a  few  feet  of  its  adversary,  then 
springs  to  the  shoulders,  which  is  almost  sure  to 
fell  any  man  to  the  ground,  while  it  sinks  its 
fangs  in  his  neck  or  thereabouts  and  lacerates 
his  body  with  its  great  claws. 

The  jaguar  takes  its  prey  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
depending  on  the  animal  it  selects  and  its  sur- 
roundings. In  many  cases  the  game  upon  the 
capture  of  which  his  subsistence  depends  is  more 
fleet  of  foot  than  himself,  and,  therefore,  he  must 
resort  to  strategy  to  effect  its  seizure.  So,  either 
by  stalking  or  ambushing  his  prey,  his  victim  is 
invariably  taken  by  surprise.  The  jaguar  fre- 
quently strikes  down  and  kills  game  with  a  blow 
of  its  massive  forearm,  but  in  the  case  of  a  large 
quadruped  it  usually  springs  for  the  shoulder  and 
seizes  by  the  throat,  while  one  paw  is  placed  on 
the  muzzle  and  the  other  on  the  neck,  and  with  a 
single  tremendous  wrench  he  breaks  the  neck. 
As  might  be  supposed,  circumstances  often  re- 
quire them  to  vary  their  tactics.     I  have  known 


116  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

a  jaguar  to  kill  one  of  his  own  kind  almost  in- 
stantly by  a  bite  through  the  back  of  the  neck 
which  pierced  the  vertebra?.  The  power  in  their 
jaws  is  indeed  terrific.  When  they  have  killed 
their  prey  they  never  attend  to  the  hindquarters 
first,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  tiger,  but 
tear  open  the  under  parts  and  eat  first  the  heart, 
lungs  and  Hver,  then  the  meat  along  the  breast. 
After  satisfying  their  hunger,  they  sit  down  and 
make  their  toilet,  for  after  such  butchery  the 
blood  stains  must  be  carefully  removed  with  their 
great,  rough  tongues,  for  they  are  clean,  fine- 
looking  beasts ;  we  must  at  least  give  them  credit 
for  this,  even  if  they  do  kill  one  of  us  occasion- 
ally. The  great  cat  then  retires  to  some  nearby 
hiding  place,  and  if  undisturbed  will  return  to 
its  prey  a  little  after  sundown  on  the  following 
day. 

Conditions  being  favorable,  the  female,  after 
attaining  the  age  of  three  years,  brings  forth 
from  two  to  four  cubs  yearly  (two  being  the 
usual  number),  which  are  about  100  days  in  ges- 
tation, and  when  they  are  about  two  to  three 
weeks  old  are  able  to  follow  the  mother.  Jaguars 
are  monogamous,  both  the  male  and  female  as- 
sisting in  bringing  up  the  young.  At  the  end  of 
a  year  they  usually  shift  for  themselves,  and  it 


HISTORY   OF   THE   JAGUAR  117 

is  about  five  years  before  they  attain  their  full 
growth.  The  splendid  male  jaguar  named 
"Sefior  Lopez"  was  presented  to  the  New  York 
Zoological  Park  in  1901 ;  he  was  full  grown  when 
he  arrived,  so  at  the  present  writing  he  must  be 
at  least  the  age  of  seventeen.  I  would  judge 
from  this,  and  from  what  I  have  gathered  from 
other  sources,  that,  barring  accident,  their  expec- 
tation of  life  is  about  twenty  years. 

Both  the  jaguar  and  puma  frequently  occupy 
the  same  range,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  decided 
enmity  between  them;  though  the  puma  is  con- 
sidered less  formidable  and  less  daring,  it  is, 
nevertheless,  the  persistent  persecutor  of  the 
jaguar. 

Like  all  animals  with  retractable  claws,  they 
delight  in  sharpening  them,  as  it  is  called,  but  it 
is  not  for  this  purpose  that  it  rears  up  and  claws 
the  bark  on  either  side  of  a  tree  trunk.  The 
object  of  this  practice  is  to  tear  off  the  ragged 
ends  and  to  cleanse  them,  and  not  for  the  pur- 
pose of  sharpening  them,  as  is  generally  sup- 
posed. Some  assert  that  each  animal  has  an 
especial  tree  to  which  he  repairs  for  the  purpose, 
and  a  common  method  of  ascertaining  if  a  jag- 
uar is  in  the  neighborhood  is  to  examine  the 
trunks  of  the  trees. 


118  BIG    GAJME    FIELDS 

The  wounds  from  the  claws  of  a  jaguar  are 
exceedingly  dangerous,  as  they  frequently  feed 
upon  carcasses  that  are  in  a  decomposed  con- 
dition, and  as  a  consequence  their  claws  are 
tainted  and  may  cause  gangrene  by  inoculation. 
Wounds  of  this  kind  should  be  thoroughly 
syringed  with  cold  water  mixed  with  a  1/35  part 
of  carbolic  acid,  three  or  four  times  a  day,  and 
wrapped  with  a  cloth  soaked  with  the  solution. 

The  methods  of  hunting  the  jaguar  vary  in 
accordance  with  the  locality.  Where  the  country 
is  more  open  the  most  successful  way  is  to  pur- 
sue them  with  a  pack  of  dogs  which  have  been 
trained  for  the  purpose.  The  big  cat  will  often 
stop  to  fight  the  dogs  off  on  the  ground,  and 
later  will  take  to  a  tree,  only  to  jump  out  again 
as  the  hunters  come  up,  but  as  their  lungs  are 
not  adapted  to  making  long  runs  they  will  finally 
tree  long  enough  to  offer  a  shot  if  the  hunter  is 
persistent  and  the  pack  a  good  one.  Sometimes, 
if  only  wounded,  they  drop  down  on  the  dogs  and 
die  fighting,  while  occasionally  a  hunter  may 
come  to  grief. 

In  other  sections,  where  the  jungle  is  thick  and 
impenetrable,  the}^  are  shot  from  canoes  while 
the  hunter  is  being  paddled  noiselessly  along 
some  winding  stream  that  threads  their  haunts. 


HISTORY    OF    THE    JAGUAR   119 

Again,  they  are  killed  by  watching  a  carcass  at 
night,  or,  better  still,  one  of  their  own  "kills,"  to 
which  they  are  almost  certain  to  return  provid- 
ing the  watcher's  presence  is  not  detected.  Oc- 
casionally they  are  killed  by  so-called  jacking 
them.  An  acetylene  jacklight  is  adjusted  to  the 
head,  and  when  it  is  turned  on  an  animal  at  night 
will  reflect  its  eyes  at  a  considerable  distance. 

Equipped  in  this  way,  and  by  walking  quietly 
up  an  arroyo,  the  liunter  may  come  within  a  few 
yards  of  a  pair  of  yellow-green,  glowing  orbs 
that  belong  to  none  other  than  the  great  cat,  and 
if  he  can  bring  him  to  earth  with  a  well-directed 
shot  in  the  uncertain  light  he  has  well  earned  his 
trophy. 

In  conclusion,  would  say  that  to  hunt  the  lion 
or  the  tiger  is  the  king  of  sports,  but  next  to  that 
(possibly  because  I  am  more  interested  in  the 
carnivorous  animals)  there  is  no  more  thrilling 
or  interesting  sport  than  the  pursuit  of  the  Amer- 
ican tiger.  Sportsmen  and  lovers  of  animal  life 
are  already  giving  more  attention  to  this  superb 
animal,  finding  that  transportation  of  the  pres- 
ent day  makes  it  possible  to  invade  his  haunts 
and  return  within  the  space  of  a  few  weeks. 
There  is  still  much  to  learn  about  this  splendid 
beast,  and  those  who  will  go  and  live  with  him  in 


120  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

his  native  haunts,  as  the  writer  has  done,  may 
bring  back  something  that  others  have  failed  to 
note.  In  my  opinion  the  comprehension  through 
observation  of  big  game  is  more  of  an  achieve- 
ment than  the  killing  of  it. 


From    the    gloom    of    the    big    mora    trees    shot    a    long,    low, 
shadowy    form. 


IV 

THE  PROWLER  OF  THE  NIGHT 

Author's  Note. — The  aim  of  this  story  is  to  bring  the  sports- 
man and  naturalist  in  more  direct  contact  with  the  surroundings 
of  the  jaguar,  in  his  true  haunts,  to  lead  him  into  the  jungle 
with  all  its  fascinating  variety  of  scene  and  picturesqueness. 

Through  hill  and  forests  where  he  may  make  the  acquaintance 
and  feel  a  part  of,  rather  than  an  intruder  upon  the  creatures 
that  dwell  therein. 

At  sunset  and  at  dawn,  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  silently 
treading  the  undisturbed  forests,  he  reads  the  secrets  of  the 
wilderness. 

The  sky  gleamed  with  a  cold  yet  lustrous 
blue,  while  across  it  slowly  flitted  a  few  fleecy 
clouds  of  palest  amber,  deepening,  as  they  sailed 
along,  to  a  tawny  orange.  The  surrounding 
hills,  bathed  as  they  were  in  the  soft  pink  hue  of 
a  sinking  tropical  sun,  were  suggestive  of  things 
that  might  lurk  in  their  deepening  shadows. 

A  cold  air  came  surging  upward  through  a 
precipitous  gully,  creaking  the  bamboos  and  un- 
dergrowth, stirring  the  dry  brown  leaves  that 
clothed  the  darkening  hill  slopes  around.  A 
sense  of  melancholy  pervaded  the  surroundings 

that  was  intensified  by  the  absolute  silence.    Not 

123 


124  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

even  the  cry  of  the  toucan  broke  the  almost  death- 
like stillness — no  vagrant  breeze  stirred  a  ripple 
on  the  glassy  waters  of  the  river  that  wound  its 
way  from  the  hills  down  into  the  stretch  of  low 
jungle  lands,  and  disappeared  in  rich  dark  ver- 
dure. From  the  dark,  noiseless  waters  stretched 
the  forests,  vast,  gloomy  and  impenetrable.  The 
limpid  waters  winding  ceaselessly  through  the 
gnarled  and  rank  vegetation  of  the  jungle  finally 
emerged  into  a  boundless  lagoon,  its  oily  waters 
spreading  out  into  a  million  different  bayous, 
streams  and  ponds.  Pond  after  pond,  island 
after  island,  for  miles  stretched  the  bewildering 
waterway,  and  as  night  unfolded  her  curtains  of 
somber  hue,  it  became  replete  with  the  uncanny 
mystery  that  seems  to  lurk  in  the  recesses  of  a 
great  swamp.  The  rank  swale  grass,  shoulder 
high,  was  fringed  here  and  there  with  great 
gaunt  trees  that  were  silhouetted  against  a  won- 
derful star-bespeckled  tropical  sky,  whilst  a 
creeping  life  moved  unseen  among  the  trees  and 
roots. 

Such  is  the  scene,  impressing  the  mind  with  a 
sense  of  awful  magnitude  and  wonderment,  a 
fitting  background  for  forest  dramas,  for  herein 
lay  the  haunts  of  the  lord  of  the  South  Ameri- 


PROWLER    OF    THE    NIGHT    125 

can  jungle,  the  greatest  of  all  the  spotted  cats, 
the  jaguar. 

By  the  light  of  a  half  moon — where  its  pale 
wan  rays  flooded  a  precipitous  slope — there 
showed  a  cavernous  gulch,  falling  suddenly  to  a 
great  depth.  At  the  foot  of  the  dark  scarps  of 
horizontal  rocks  that  rimmed  the  tableland  wound 
a  freshet  over  a  boulder-strewn  bed.  The  ravine 
for  the  most  part  was  filled  with  a  choked  tangle 
of  jungle  bamboo  thickets  that  were  rent  by  huge 
and  fantastic  rock  gorges,  forming  ghostly, 
damp  and  inky-black  caverns,  of  innumerable 
sizes  and  shapes ;  a  fitting  place  for  the  uncanny 
creatures  that  dw^ell  therein. 

Over  a  long  slant  of  moss-grown,  slimy  rock 
wriggled  a  snake.  It  was  the  bushmaster,  the 
largest  and  most  poisonous  of  them  all.  His 
diamond-patterned  body,  nine  feet  in  length, 
stopped  and  poised  for  a  moment  at  the  edge, 
while  some  eighteen  inches  of  his  pink  and  brown 
form  hung  over  the  brink.  Finally  he  made  the 
descent  of  some  five  feet  of  sheer  drop,  where 
he  coiled  at  the  edge  of  a  pool  in  the  rank  grass 
to  doze  and  await  the  coming  of  some  small  ani- 
mal to  drink. 

The  big  black  wax  palms,  the  quiet,  unruffled 
pool,  the  white  moonlight,  the  inky  shadows ;  and 


126  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

save  for  the  chirping  of  crickets  or  the  croaking 
of  a  wakeful  frog,  all  was  as  still  and  appar- 
ently as  deserted  as  the  grave.  The  great  vam- 
pire, that  spirit  of  the  waste,  cast  spectral  shad- 
ows here  and  there  as  he  wove  delicate  mazes 
against  the  moon's  white  face.  A  slender  shaft 
of  moonlight  fell  dreamily  over  a  huge  mass  of 
rocks,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge  where  the 
vegetation  grew  rankest  a  sleek,  tawny  jaguar 
stretched  himself  in  the  mouth  of  his  lair.  He 
rumbled  a  hoarse  growl  out  over  the  night  scene 
that  struck  all  other  creatures  dumb  with  fear. 
Hunger  pricked  at  his  gaunt  sides  and  urged 
him  out  into  the  jungle  below ;  for  not  in  five  long 
days  had  he  tasted  food,  the  result  of  an  ill- 
advised  attack  upon  a  great  bull  out  on  the  edge 
of  the  Pampas,  ten  miles  to  the  west.  But  the 
long  gash  in  his  flank  had  now  nearly  healed,  and 
despite  his  stiffness  he  slipped  noiselessly,  cau- 
tiously down  toward  the  pitchy  canopy  of  the 
jungle. 

The  pools  looked  up  into  the  night  sky  like 
dark,  tranquil  eyes,  wide  open  and  motionless, 
reflecting  the  crisp  stars  and  the  young  moon. 
At  the  margin  of  one  of  these  little,  lonely  pools 
the  jaguar  crouched  and  slaked  his  thirst;  then, 
stiU  gazing  intently  into  the  inky  water  which 


PROWLER    OF    THE    NIGHT    127 

reflected  his  massive,  catlike  head,  he  licked  his 
black  muzzle  and  long  white  whiskers,  much 
after  the  manner  of  a  big  cat,  which  he  really 
was.  Stopping  occasionally  to  peer  through  the 
soft  light  with  his  keen,  luminous  eyes,  sitting 
back  on  his  haunches  he  licked  his  paws  and 
rubbed  them  across  his  spotted  face  just  as  a 
house  cat  would  do. 

Suddenly  a  ripened  mango  slipped  from  its 
stalk  and  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  little  thud, 
breaking  the  heavy  silence  of  the  place.  This 
brought  the  big  cat  to  his  feet  in  a  half-crouched 
position,  his  senses  all  alert.  Stealing  silently 
forward,  he  satisfied  himself  at  length  that  it 
Avas  not  a  movement  of  some  possible  prey  incau- 
tiously disclosing  its  presence.  The  jaguar 
passed  slowly  down  the  winding  reaches  of  the 
jungle  river-bed,  while  frogs  leaped  hurriedly 
for  the  pools  at  his  approach;  now  and  then  a 
landcrab  would  go  scuttling  off  sideways  to  its 
hole  and  perhaps  his  heavy  paw  would  descend 
on  it. 

The  moon  had  passed  across  the  sky  until  the 
slope  of  the  bank  lay  in  sable  shadow,  but  the 
luminous  line  of  grass  fringing  its  crest  was 
clearly  defined.  Very  slowly  a  large,  dark  ob- 
ject that  seemed  to  drift  phantom-like  up  to  the 


128  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

crest  of  the  rise,  arose  against  the  moon-lit  sky- 
line, stood  motionless  for  a  long  time,  then  de- 
scended in  the  darkness.  Under  the  matted  roof 
of  the  jungle  and  through  its  column  aisles  of 
cathedral  silence  prowled  the  great  beast  far  into 
the  night. 

It  may  have  been  toward  the  small  hours  of 
morning  that  the  spotted  prowler  of  the  night 
approached  a  small  opening  amid  the  darkly  en- 
folding jungle.  A  little  patch  of  yellow,  moon- 
lit grass  surrounded  a  shrunken  pool,  while  all 
around  the  giant  mora  trees  reared  their  great 
dark  trunks  aloft,  and  stretched  out  their  many 
arms,  that  were  interwoven  with  clinging  vines 
and  creepers,  casting  a  black  and  impenetrable 
shadow  thereabout.  Under  the  trees  the  air  was 
damp  and  chill.  Some  small  animal,  suddenly 
startled,  passed  into  the  moonlit  grass,  and  van- 
ished. It  was  a  silent,  lone  and  dismal  spot.  The 
jaguar  crept  into  the  shadows  beyond  the  pool, 
where  he  paused.  His  long,  tawny  form  might 
easily  have  been  taken  for  one  of  the  lurking 
shadows. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  no  sound ;  then  came 
a  faint  rustling;  another  pause;  not  until  many 
slow  minutes  dropped  by  did  the  crackle  of  un- 
dergrowth and  brushing  of  grass  grow  sharper 


It   was   a   silent,   lone   and   dismal   spot. 


PROWLER   OF    THE   NIGHT    131 

and  clearer.  Then  it  stopped.  Long  after  this 
the  grass  rustled  gently  again ;  something  was  ap- 
parently moving  about,  undecided  whether  to 
advance.  It  came  on  again  slowly — and  after 
another  lapse  of  time  a  hesitating  footfall  sound- 
ed. Now,  against  the  luminous  background, 
something  showed  black  as  it  moved  warily  up 
to  the  water's  edge.  Then  came  slowly  into  view 
the  long,  lean  muzzle  of  a  tapir.  There  was  a 
soft  squelching  in  the  dark,  and  a  sucking  noise, 
as  the  tapir  lowered  its  nose  to  the  cool  liquid 
at  its  feet.  The  moon  shone  clear  out  in  the  open, 
the  gentle  night  swung  on  her  soft  course,  the 
stars  twinkled  down  brightly  on  the  silent  scene. 
All  was  wrapped  in  a  calm,  kindly  peace — a  per- 
fection of  lulling  repose  that  seemed  to  woo  every 
sense  into  a  feeling  of  quiet  security.  But  it 
was  the  smooth  treachery,  the  deadly  dissimula- 
tion of  the  jungle  by  night. 

Suddenly,  noiseless  as  a  shadow,  another  fig- 
ure joined  the  first,  and  two  tapirs  were  now 
clearly  outlined  in  silhouette.  Their  muzzles  be- 
gan to  go  out  and  down — to  be  quickly  raised 
again  with  a  jerk.  Their  ears  hinged  forward, 
then  back,  then  forward  again.  They  were  gaz- 
ing intently,  fixedly  into  the  velvety  shadows  of 
the  big  trees.    The  lower  jaw  of  the  jaguar  hung 


132  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

slightly  open,  his  black  lips  quivered  and  drooled 
with  the  expectancy  of  a  meal;  his  spotted  tail 
waved  from  side  to  side  at  the  extreme  tip,  ever 
so  gently,  as  he  crouched,  belly  to  the  ground,  all 
his  muscles  tense. 

At  last  a  paw  of  the  stalker  went  out,  with  in- 
finite caution,  and  remained  there.  Very  slowly, 
indeed,  another  followed  and  passed  it.  And 
then,  inch  by  inch,  paw  by  paw,  each  advanced  in 
turn  with  almost  inconceivable  stealth,  a  gray 
shadow,  a  mere  suggestion  of  shape,  began  to 
creep  along.  So  slowly  did  it  travel,  this  phan- 
tom form,  only  a  few  inches  in  height — that  it 
was  only  after  long  intervals  of  time  that  it 
seemed  to  have  moved  perceptibly  nearer. 

Then,  into  the  moonlight,  from  the  gloom  of 
the  big  mora  trees,  shot  a  long,  low,  shadowy 
form.  Fifteen  feet  from  the  tapir  there  was  the 
slightest  noticeable  pause;  the  lithe  and  muscu- 
lar form  gathered  itself  together  like  a  most 
powerfully  compressed  steel  spring.  The  jag- 
uar sailed  through  the  air.  There  was  a  dull  thud 
and  a  clattering  of  hoofs  as  one  of  the  tapirs 
went  galloping  in  terror  off  through  the  jungle, 
while  something  of  great  strength  clutched  at 
the  nape  of  the  neck  of  the  other.  Five  cruelly 
lacerating  claws  fixed  themselves  into  her  long. 


PROWLER    OF    THE    NIGHT    133 

sensitive  nose,  and  her  neck  was  seized  in  a  ter- 
rible grip.  There  was  a  sudden,  quick  movement, 
a  dull  crack,  and  the  tapir  sank  down,  her  cer- 
vical vertebra  dislocated.  Long  after  this  was 
heard  a  queer,  low  sound  as  of  bubbling,  a  frothy 
breathing,  and  a  ripping,  tearing  noise.  Then 
it  ceased,  and  a  deep,  throaty  purr  vibrated. 

The  jaguar  was  now  wandering  around  and 
smelling  his  "kill."  In  the  course  of  time  a  drag- 
ging sound  ensued.  He  was  endeavoring  to  con- 
vey his  prey  to  a  distance,  after  the  instincts  of 
his  race. 

The  jaguar  fell  to  and  fed  voraciously.  Tear- 
ing open  the  viscera,  he  demolished  first  the 
tender  organs  therein,  and  ate  all  the  meat  from 
the  breastbone.  The  moon  had  set.  Above  the 
dark  outline  of  the  distant  hills  a  faint  and  evan- 
escent sheen  lingered  in  the  western  sky,  and 
marked  where  her  declining  disk  had  lately  been 
slowly  cut  through  by  the  black  heads  of  jungle 
trees ;  and  a  complete  hush  had  descended  in  that 
short  period  of  darkness  which  precedes  the  dawn. 

The  jaguar  began  to  drag  the  remains  of  his 
"kill"  yet  farther  into  the  jungle,  w^ith  a  view  to 
concealing  it  until  his  return  the  following  even- 
ing. Carefully  he  covered  up  the  gory  carcass 
with  leaves  and  grass,  scratching  them  together 


134  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

like  a  great  cat.  Water  was  his  next  consider- 
ation, then  sauntering  leisurely  to  a  copaiba  tree 
he  reached  up  and  dug  his  long,  cruel  claws  into 
the  bark,  scoring  it  deeply.  Contentedly  he 
moved  on,  slowly,  through  the  jungle.  He  had 
fed  and  drunk  his  fill.  As  he  passed  under  the 
fallen  stems  of  some  long  reed  grass,  they  tickled 
his  back  and  up  went  his  round  tail,  after  the 
pleasurable  fashion  of  all  cats.  On  he  passed 
into  the  darkest  reaches  of  the  jungle,  a  hand- 
some, sleek  young  murderer,  seeking  a  quiet, 
dark  retreat  for  the  day,  and  wearing  the  ap- 
pearance of  gracious  innocence  very  much  at 
variance  with  his  horrible  work  of  the  night.  But 
all  Nature  is  cruel  and  jaguars,  too,  must  live; 
he  had  only  fulfilled  his  mission  after  aU. 

The  approaching  dawn  found  the  jaguar  "ly- 
ing up"  in  a  thick,  dark,  leafy  bower,  where  he 
dozed  lazily,  contentedly. 

Now  the  faintest  greenish  suffusion  is  grad- 
ually mounting  into  the  sky,  rendering  the  morn- 
ing star  ever  higher  and  paler.  The  slumbering 
forests  stir  gently.  Then  somewhere  from  afar 
the  call  of  a  campanero  rises  clear,  to  be  quickly 
answered  by  another,  and  another,  and  as  the 
shadows  of  night  go  trailing  away  their  long, 
crapy  garments,  there  is  the  faintest  suggestion 


A   hanclhoiiR',    .sleek    young    inurclerer. 


PROWLER   OF    THE   NIGHT    137 

of  soft  light  falling  through  the  spectral  limbs 
of  the  great  trees.  All  the  wild  folk  of  the  diur- 
nal hours  gradually  come  forth  and  pursue  their 
many  ways.  In  the  growing  light  the  superb 
scene  is  slowly  unfolded  as  the  sun  creeps  up 
with  his  mighty  glowing  orb,  turning  the  horizon 
to  a  furnace  of  crimson  fire.  Now  the  tree  tops 
catch  a  golden  glint  as  the  level  beams  run  like 
long,  bright  fingers  through  the  newly  awakened 
jungle.  A  flight  of  chattering  paroquettes  go 
whirling  and  twisting  through  the  trees.  Day 
has  come.  Slowly  the  intolerable  hot- weather  day 
wears  away  in  silence,  but  for  the  creaking  of 
the  parched  bamboos  in  the  occasional  breaths  of 
burning  air,  and  the  stirring  of  the  sharp,  dry 
leaves,  an  occasional  "caw"  from  the  indefatiga- 
ble crows,  or  the  squeaking  hiss  of  the  quarrel- 
some vultures  as  they  greet  the  heavy  flappings 
of  some  newcomer  settling  among  them.  The 
jungle  grass,  sand,  trees,  bamboos,  rocks — all  are 
quivering  yellow-white  in  the  furiously  bright 
glare  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  stand  out  blind- 
ingly  against  the  peculiar  dull  blue-black  of  the 
relentless  sky.  Such  birds  as  could  be  seen  hid- 
ing in  the  shade  held  their  beaks  agape,  and  all 
nature  seems  to  be  panting  and  gasping  in  the 
terrific  heat  of  high  noon. 


138  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

The  big  cat  had  heretofore  returned  to  partake 
of  his  meals  in  undisturbed  peace.  But  on  this 
occasion  it  was  different.  Not  for  nothing  had 
the  scene  of  carnage  been  witnessed  by  a  native 
Indian  who  happened  by  that  day.  So  it  was 
that  that  evening,  in  the  fading  glow  of  twilight, 
that  the  birds  shifted  uneasily  among  the  trees 
and  a  troop  of  loose-limbed  black  spider  monkeys 
swung  hurriedly  along  overhead.  Something 
seemed  to  be  moving  stealthily  in  the  jungle  op- 
posite the  pool.  There  was  a  faint  rustle  where 
the  long  grass  ran  into  the  shadows  of  the  close- 
set  trees — and  a  sound  of  a  dry  leaf  crushing 
slowly,  as  if  under  the  pressure  of  a  soft  but 
heavy  footfall.  Night  was  falling.  Already  a 
star  or  two  began  to  show  in  the  darkening  sky; 
and  the  mournful  call  of  some  nocturnal  bird  re- 
echoed hollowly  through  the  forests.  After  a 
while  a  stick  snapped  indistinctly  across  the  nar- 
row glade,  and  there  was  a  slight  rustling  in  the 
trees  opposite.  In  the  dim  light  a  shapeless  form, 
as  of  some  large  beast,  traveled  slowly  across  the 
open  glade,  and  faded  into  the  shadows  beyond. 
For  some  minutes  there  was  dead  silence.  Then 
a  cautious  tread  again  became  faintly  audible  in 
the  loose  carpeting  of  withered  leaves ;  some  grass 
stems  bent  very  slowly  aside,  and  with  infinite 


A  native  Indian  iiappt-ned    hy  that  day. 


PROWLER    OF    THE    NIGHT   141 

craft  the  tawny  form  of  a  large  jaguar  stole 
softly,  slyly  out  of  the  gloom.  He  was  creeping 
watchfully  forward,  paw  hy  paw,  head  down. 
Then  he  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  a  pace, 
and  listened. 

Across  the  glade  something  creaked  gently  in 
a  tree,  with  faint  sound  of  wood  on  wood.  The 
jaguar  swiftly  raised  his  yellow  orbs  and  stared, 
watchful,  alert,  and  sat  there  and  contemplatively 
waited,  a  shadowy,  round,  bewhiskered  counte- 
nance. Darkness  was  rapidly  closing  in,  yet  he 
made  no  sign  of  moving.  A  pair  of  baleful, 
shining  eyes  were  fixed  inquiringly  on  a  tree 
across  the  glade.  For  a  long  time  the  grizzly 
watcher  under  the  trees  had  sat  motionless,  but 
now  at  last  a  shadowy  bulk  was  creeping  for- 
ward. The  faintest  breath  of  air  drifted  his  way, 
carrying  with  it  the  strong  scent  of  the  tapir, 
which  made  him  the  more  eager  to  begin  his  meal, 
and  he  came  on  more  confidently.  The  dewy 
bushes  parted ;  he  paced  heavily  forward,  to  pass 
all  unconsciously  right  under  an  unnatural-look- 
ing clump  of  leaves  in  the  limbs  of  a  low  tree. 

From  this  hiding  place  the  long,  lean  muzzle 
of  a  native  gun  slowly  protruded,  and  followed 
him  as  he  moved  on^vard  to  the  "kill"  and  stopped 


142  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

to  smell  it.  Long  dwelt  the  careful  aim.  Sud- 
denly a  flash  of  sparks  flew  out,  then  a  thunder- 
ous discharge  shook  the  air.  A  nerve-shattering 
roar — a  spring  into  the  shadows  beyond — and  a 
brooding  silence  settled  everywhere. 


V 
FIRST  TRIP  TO  MEXICO 

Paet  I — Over  the  Great  Divide 

The  good  ship  Creole^  sailing  from  New  York, 
November  12,  bound  for  New  Orleans,  found  me 
on  my  way  to  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountains,  in 
North  Mexico,  for  big  game.  It  is  a  five  days' 
sail,  and  we  had  smooth  and  delightful  weather 
all  the  way;  moonlit  nights,  with  a  total  eclipse 
of  the  moon  occurring  the  third  night  out.  It 
made  the  ocean  take  on  a  most  interesting  and 
weird  aspect.  It  became  quite  dark  with  a  rather 
purple  effect,  while  the  phosphorus  from  the  roll- 
ing wave-tops  shone  like  blue  lights.  In  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  we  noted  the  presence  of  various  fish 
and  birds  that  had  been  absent  during  the  rest 
of  the  trip.  Numerous  sharks  swam  along  in 
plain  view,  and  we  passed  many  schools  of  flying 
fish,  while  schools  of  porpoises  put  in  their  ap- 
pearance quite  regularly. 

Arriving  at  New  Orleans  on  the  morning  of 
143 


144  BIG    GAIVIE    FIELDS 

the  fifth  day,  I  drove  across  town  and  caught  the 
Sunset  Express  to  El  Paso,  which  is  a  two  days' 
run.  Upon  arrival  in  El  Paso  I  set  about  at 
once  to  see  if  I  could  have  my  guns  bonded 
across  the  line.  It  was  just  at  this  time  that  the 
uprising  and  the  revolution  were  spreading 
throughout  INIexico,  and  I  was  told  by  many  it 
would  be  impossible  to  get  my  guns  over.  How- 
ever, I  took  a  rather  optimistic  view  of  it  and  ex- 
pected the  situation  to  improve,  but  on  the  con- 
trary it  grew  worse  from  day  to  day.  I  waited 
in  El  Paso  four  days  trying  to  get  my  guns  over 
and  expecting  the  trouble  to  abate,  but  each  day 
the  papers  told  more  thrilling  stories  of  the 
spreading  revolution,  bloody  conflicts,  the  killing 
of  Americans,  and,  finally,  the  day  before  I  left 
for  Casas  Grandes,  on  the  Mexican  Northwestern 
Railroad,  they  fired  on  the  train,  killed  two  pas- 
sengers and  several  troops,  cut  the  wires  and 
burned  some  of  the  bridges.  After  reading  this 
the  morning  I  was  ready  to  start  I  telephoned 
over  to  find  out  if  the  train  would  start  out  that 
morning.  They  said  they  were  going  to  run  it, 
but  didn't  know  how  far  it  would  get.  Deter- 
mined not  to  be  turned  back  to  New  York,  with- 
out at  least  a  try  to  have  my  hunt,  I  crossed  the 
Rio  Grande  River  to  Colonia  Juarez,  boarded 


^  ^ 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      147 

the  train  and  started.  It  consisted  of  two  cars — 
there  were  ten  troops  in  the  first  car, — also  the 
baggage  and  mail.  In  the  second  car  were  four 
troops,  myself  and  six  hard-looking  Mexicans. 
It  is  a  five-hour  run  to  Casas  Grandes,  and  I  am 
glad  to  say  nothing  happened  on  the  way  down. 
It  was  reported,  however,  that  the  revolutionists 
were  marching  on  Casas  Grandes,  troops  had 
been  rushed  over  and  the}'^  expected  the  fight  to 
come  off  that  afternoon,  but  this  interesting 
denouement  did  not  materialize  that  afternoon, 
and  the  next  day  I  was  off  for  the  mountains. 

It  is  a  fifty-mile  drive  and  all  uphill  from  Casas 
Grandes  to  Colonia  Pacheco, — here  I  was  to  rent 
guns,  and  start  with  my  outfit,  consisting  of  five 
horses,  three  mules,  guide,  cook,  and,  last  but  not 
least,  a  pack  of  hounds.  We  packed  five  of  the 
animals  and  each  rode  one.  The  first  day  we 
rode  fifteen  miles  and  made  camp  in  Hawk 
Canon.  We  took  along  a  smart  little  shepherd 
dog  named  Spot,  who  was  of  great  assistance  in 
keeping  up  the  pack  animals.  When  they  would 
fall  behind  a  little  or  attempt  to  stray  off  he 
would  promptly  drive  them  up  where  they  be- 
longed by  snapping  at  their  heels. 

The  second  day  we  were  up  before  the  sun, 
breakfast  over  and  animals  packed,  and  were  off 


148  BIG   GAJVIE    FIELDS 

for  another  fifteen-mile  ride, — should  say  climb, 
— as  we  were  still  going  uphill.  We  made  the 
top  of  Blue  Mountain  about  noon,  which  was 
the  highest  point  we  reached,  9,000  feet  above  sea 
level,  and  the  top  of  the  divide,  where  the  rivers 
flow  to  the  Atlantic  or  Gulf  on  one  side  and 
toward  the  Pacific  on  the  other.  We  then  com- 
menced to  descend  until  we  reached  about  6,000 
feet,  where  we  made  our  second  camp  in  Trout 
Canon.  Camps  are  always  made  in  this  country 
when  possible  in  canons,  as  they  are  the  only 
places  where  water  is  procurable  and  one  is  also 
protected  from  the  winds.  The  days  were  quite 
warm  and  comfortable,  but  as  the  sun  sank  in 
the  west  it  grew  steadily  colder  until  it  dropped 
below  freezing,  and  ice  formed  every  night.  This 
made  the  camp-fires  at  night,  where  many  thrill- 
ing stories  were  exchanged  of  adventures  with 
the  silver-tip  and  lion,  as  well  as  recent  Indian 
killings  by  the  Apaches  and  Yaquis,  the  more 
welcome. 

We  expected  to  spend  several  days  in  Trout 
Canon  and  hunt  the  country  thereabout  before 
dropping  below  to  a  section  practically  unex- 
plored. I  was  after  the  big  stuff,  silver-tip  and 
lion,  properly  called  cougar,  but  the  first  day,  as 
all  hunters  know,  was  devoted  to  the  getting  of 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      151 

meat  for  camp  and  dogs.  Two  turkeys  and  two 
deer  settled  that  question,  at  least  for  a  while. 
The  following  morning  there  was  a  general  feel- 
ing of  something  doing  in  camp,  and  we  were 
all  astir  long  before  the  sun  had  signaled  the 
commencement  of  another  day.  It  was  not  long 
before  we  rode  out  of  camp  on  our  best  mounts, 
accompanied  by  the  hound  pack,  which  were 
prancing  here  and  there  with  overflowing  spirits 
of  joy  and  enthusiasm.  We  rode  south  to  the 
fork  of  the  canon  to  a  country  they  call  the 
Rufl*s,  and  it  well  deserves  the  name,  for  it  is 
indeed  the  roughest,  wildest,  most  weird-looking 
country  I  ever  saw,  and  I  have  seen  some  rough 
country,  in  Colorado,  too.  Great  ledges  of  jag- 
ged rocks,  immense  timbers,  huge  boulders,  and 
what  seemed  to  be  wondrous  cracks  in  the  earth — 
in  fact,  every  formation  imaginable  seemed  to  be 
tumbled  here  together  to  form  what  one  might 
term  in  its  fullest  sense  the  Ruffs.  What  a  spot 
for  anything  that  enjoyed  living  in  an  inaccessi- 
ble place!  How  could  we  get  through  such  a 
country?  How  I  did  I  am  still  trying  to  under- 
stand. We  rode  away,  of  course,  tied  our  horses, 
climbed,  crawled,  slid  down  and  lowered  our- 
selves in  places  with  ropes  one  by  one,  and  then 
the  hounds,  one  at  a  time.    At  the  foot  of  the 


152  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

canon  we  started  to  climb  Back  Bone  Ridge,  and 
when  nearing  the  top  several  of  the  hounds  rolled 
out  that  music  of  fine  deep  baying  on  the  morn- 
ing air  that  thrills  the  heart  of  every  hunter  who 
has  heard  his  hounds  strike  a  fresh  trail.  They 
were  off,  sure  enough,  and  it  certainly  looked 
like  our  busy  day. 

Over  the  ridge  they  took,  then  along  the  side. 
We  looked  along  in  the  soft  places  and  finally 
saw  the  track,  and  what  a  print  he  left!  It  was 
not  necessary  to  look  twice  to  see  that  this  Mr. 
Grizzly  had  waxed  large  and  fat.  The  hounds 
were  getting  quite  a  lead  on  us,  but  you  can  bet 
a  hatful  of  tobacco  we  were  doing  our  best  to 
keep  up!  They  dropped  down  the  side  of  the 
canon  beyond  and  into  some  of  the  rough  places ; 
and  so  it  went  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  Twice 
they  held  him  up  while  we  could  hear  the  furious 
fighting,  barks,  yelps,  and  growls,  with  the  tum- 
bling of  rocks  down  steep  slopes,  but  just  as  we 
were  coming  up  he  would  push  on  again.  The 
old  silver-tip,  no  doubt,  had  fought  many  hard 
battles  and  was  a  game  scrapper;  anj^one  who 
has  ever  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  grizzly 
will  tell  you  the  same — they  are  the  hardest  lot 
that  roams  the  wilds.  The  dogs  fought  on 
bravely — until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  we 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      153 

saw  that  time  would  prevent  us  from  continuing, 
so  we  decided  to  sound  the  horn  for  the  dogs  to 
return.  Presently  they  came  limping  back,  one 
and  two  at  a  time,  footsore  and  weary,  some  with 
ugly  cuts  and  spots  of  absent  hide  which  told 
they  had  been  in  the  thickest  of  the  row.  Old 
Don,  the  largest  and  heaviest  of  the  pack,  also 
the  boss  (especially  at  mealtimes),  failed  to  ap- 
pear. As  we  sat  around  the  camp-fire  that  night 
talking  it  all  over,  we  pictured  brave  old  Don 
lying  out  there  dead,  where  he  had  fought  to  the 
end.  The  next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  a 
loud  "Hurray!"  and,  piling  out  of  my  bankets, 
discovered  Don  wagging  what  was  left  of  his 
tail,  for  there  was  a  piece  minus,  and  his  shoul- 
der had  been  roughly  handled.  We  nursed  him 
along  and  in  less  than  a  week  he  again  accom- 
panied us  on  our  daily  trips. 

For  a  week  we  hunted  the  country  in  the  vicin- 
itj^  of  Trout  Canon.  We  found  no  lion  sign  and 
only  ran  on  to  one  more  bear,  which  the  dogs 
tried  hard  to  hold  up.  As  it  was  getting  late, 
night  soon  overtaking  us,  we  had  to  hike  back 
to  the  camp  in  the  dark  once  more,  leaving  old 
Bruin  at  large.  That  night  we  held  a  consulta- 
tion around  the  camp-fire  and  decided  to  send  the 
head  guide  back  to  Colonio  Pacheco  with  one 


154  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

packhorse  to  bring  out  additional  supplies. 
Upon  his  return,  he  being  absent  about  three  and 
one-half  days,  we  packed  our  outfit,  filed  out  of 
the  canon  down  the  steep  mountain  side,  travel- 
ing to  the  southwest,  out  of  the  state  of  Chiliua- 
hua  into  the  state  of  Sonora.  Our  object  was  to 
look  over  the  country  thoroughly  and  make  per- 
manent camp  wherever  the  country  seemed  most 
promising.  We  camped  one  night  on  the  Rio 
Bonito  and  found  innumerable  game  signs,  so 
that  it  looked  like  good  country,  but  we  pushed 
on  further,  and  camped  that  night  at  Three 
Rivers.  Here  the  rivers  Chiuchupa,  Bonito  and 
Rhine  come  together  and  form  what  is  called 
from  there  on  the  Bavespa. 

I  was  in  favor  of  shifting  back  and  hunting 
the  Rio  Bonito,  but  Hi  said  it  would  be  worth  a 
day's  trip  to  go  down  to  Bavespa  River,  the 
country  being  very  odd  and  interesting,  with 
occasional  flats  of  great  cane-brakes.  If  game 
did  not  appear  plentiful  here  we  would  at  least 
see  the  country  and  could  then  pull  back  to  the 
Bonito.  Around  the  camp-fires  that  night  I 
learned  something  of  the  Indians  of  this  section ; 
there  were  the  Yaqui  Indians  that  lived  mostly 
on  the  western  slopes  of  these  mountains  who 
have  been  continually  on  the  warpath  and  have 


^^^gH^^ 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      157 

never  come  in  under  the  government  control,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  those  tribes  live  in  these 
almost  inaccessible  parts  of  the  mountains,  where 
no  one  but  themselves  are  familiar  with  the  trails 
through  the  great  cane-brakes,  so  that  it  has  been 
impossible  to  round  them  up.  For  the  last  year 
they  have  been  comparatively  quiet,  but  there  are 
two  tribes  of  Apaches,  one  especially  that  have 
been  raiding  ranches,  isolated  settlers  and  stray 
travelers,  killing  men  and  women  and  taking 
their  supplies;  usually  after  a  raid  of  this  kind, 
some  of  the  old  frontiersmen  and  cow-punchers 
get  together  and  trail  these  red  devils  into  the 
mountains,  and,  if  successful,  they  usually  man- 
age to  reduce  their  numbers  considerably.  So 
many  encounters  of  this  kind  have  they  had  that 
there  only  remained  nine  in  this  tribe,  five  bucks 
and  four  squaws;  by  the  way,  the  squaws  can 
shoot  just  about  as  well  as  the  bucks,  and  always 
take  a  hand  during  hostilities. 

One  of  the  nine  is  a  young  buck,  generally 
known  throughout  here  as  "The  Kid."  He  has 
done  a  lot  of  killing  and  has  been  wounded  twice, 
but  still  roams  the  mountains  and  is  the  terror  of 
the  country.  I  was  very  much  interested  in  the 
"Kid,"  and  asked  many  questions  concerning 
him,  listening  with  interest  to  many  of  his  daring 


158  BIG   GAJNIE    FIELDS 

and  bloodthirsty  deeds,  as  I  heard  something  of 
him  when  I  was  in  Texas  three  years  ago.  He 
is  of  medium  height ;  sHm,  black  hair  to  the  shoul- 
ders, clad  only  in  buckskin;  sometimes  he  wears 
moccasins,  but  often  goes  barefooted,  and  usual- 
ly has  three  feathers  tied  in  his  hair.  As  to  the 
other  tribe  of  Apaches  not  much  was  known,  they 
had  not  been  seen  in  some  years.  From  twenty 
to  fifty  might  be  their  number;  their  old  camp- 
fires  and  various  signs  had  been  reported  from 
time  to  time.  They  confined  themselves  mostly 
to  horse-rustling,  and,  although  always  at  odds 
with  the  white  man,  they  were  not  known  to  com- 
mit the  depredations  carried  on  by  the  "Kid"  and 
his  tribe.  I  made  the  remark  that  it  might  be 
more  exciting  to  change  our  tactics  and  go  on  an 
Indian  hunt  than  it  would  be  for  game,  Avhere- 
upon  Hi  exclaimed  that  I  would  be  more  likely 
to  live  to  tell  about  the  latter  than  the  former. 

We  were  now  descending  to  the  river,  Hi 
ahead  picking  the  v,ay.  No  day  was  too  long,  no 
work  w^as  too  hard,  no  ridge  too  steep  for  him; 
always  good-natured,  even  when  the  whole  pack- 
train  seemed  to  want  to  go  in  various  directions. 

During  the  whole  trip  he  never  was  once  out 
of  reach  of  his  30-30.  He  said  he  had  lived  most 
of  his  life  in  hard  countries,  and,  as  he  put  it, 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      159 

"the  habit"  just  naturally  formed  itself.  In  Hi's 
wake  I  followed  closely,  and  on  this  trip  I  was 
using  a  30-40;  next  came  the  pack-train  strung 
along  with  our  other  man  Walter,  and  the  hound 
pack  bringing  up  the  rear.  By  noon  we  had 
reached  and  were  traveling  along  the  river.  The 
sun  warmed  us  through  and  through  and  felt 
good.  As  we  rode  along  shirt-sleeved  in  the  not 
too  hot  rays,  after  proceeding  some  four  or  five 
miles  and  crossing  the  river  frequently,  we  came 
to  a  small  flat,  and  to  our  surprise  saw  several 
horses  hobbled  and  bearing  various  brands.  Fur- 
ther on  we  came  to  a  dozen  or  two  more. 

"What  do  j^ou  make  of  it,  Hi?"  said  I. 

He  thought  possibly  some  company  had  sent 
men  to  look  over  the  timber,  saying  that  the  stock 
looked  too  good  to  belong  to  Indians  and  there 
were  too  many  of  them.  On  we  went,  no  sign 
of  a  human  being  whatever;  together  we  pulled 
up  before  making  another  river  crossing ;  we  had 
stopped  a  moment  to  inspect  the  depth,  when, 
upon  looking  up,  I  saw  across  the  river,  about 
seventy  yards  away,  a  head  and  shoulders  appear 
out  of  the  tall  grass.  It  was  a  slim  figure  dressed 
in  buckskin;  black  hair  to  the  shoulders  with  two 
or  three  feathers  tied  in.  We  both  saw  him  at  the 
same  moment ;  there  was  no  mistake,  and  it  came 


160  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

to  me  at  once  it  was  the  "Kid."  At  the  same  time 
I  reached  for  my  30-40.  "Keep  your  hand  off 
the  gun;  we  are  covered  now!"  exclaimed  Hi 
quickly.  The  head  disappeared  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  appeared,  and  the  waving  grass  told  which 
way  it  went  for  a  few  yards ;  then  there  was  not 
a  sound  or  a  sign  of  a  living  thing. 

Finally  I  inquired  why  he  thought  we  were 
covered.  Hi  said  he  knew  the  Redskins'  way  of 
fighting  and  that  they  were  lying  right  along 
that  httle  ridge  looking  at  us  over  their  sights. 
He  wanted  to  know  if  I  would  like  to  suggest 
anything. 

"If  we  go  back  they  will  get  us,"  I  argued, 
"and  if  we  keep  right  on,  they  might  at  least  like 
our  nerve.  Something  seems  to  tell  me  they  won't 
pot  us." 

But  Hi  retorted  emphatically  that,  from  what 
he  knew  about  Indians,  something  seemed  to  tell 
Mtii  that  they  would.  We  crossed  the  river, 
climbed  the  bank  and  rode  on.  One  hundred 
yards  passed  and  nothing  happened.  "I  just 
know  we're  going  into  some  snare,"  growled  Hi 
as  we  rode  forward.  I  didn't  answer.  I  could 
have  spoken,  but  I  did  not  want  to;  it  seemed 
foolish  to  talk  at  such  a  tim.e.  I  was  thinking 
of  what  a  good  time  I  had  had,  and  if  the  In- 


Soiiif  ot    die  younger  iiieinbers 
of  the  tril)e. 


A    few    squaws    were    tanninj 
deer   liides. 


I  succeeded  in  getting  a  picture   of  the  old  chief. 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      163 

dians  would  be  able  to  shoot  as  straight  with  my 
gun  as  I  did.  In  another  hundred  yards  we 
rounded  a  bend,  when  the  silence  was  suddenly 
broken  by  a  very  substantial  war  whoop,  and  we 
immediately  came  upon  a  number  of  tepees. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight,  except  a  few  squaws 
who  were  tanning  deer  hides,  but,  as  one  of  the 
squaws  gave  her  war  whoop,  the  old  chief  and 
three  bucks  suddenly  appeared.  Hi  had  camped 
at  one  time  with  friendly  Apaches  up  in  Arizona 
and  knew  a  little  of  their  lingo.  He  called  some- 
thing in  Apache  to  the  big  chief  and  we  aU  ex- 
changed salutes. 

"Ask  the  chief  if  I  can  take  some  pictures," 
said  I  in  an  undertone  to  Hi  as  we  dismounted. 

"He  says  'No,'  a  whole  lot,"  translated  the 
guide  after  an  inquiry  in  Apache. 

I  drew  out  a  can  of  tobacco  and  passed  it  to 
His  Highness.  He  accepted  it  all  right,  but 
when  I  pointed  to  my  kodak  he  still  shook  his 
head.  By  this  time  I  had  my  kodak  focused  up 
ready  to  snap  something,  as  I  was  very  anxious 
to  have  some  pictures  in  memory  of  our  days  of 
adventure.  I  managed  to  snap  one  of  the  squaws 
tanning  a  deer  hide  and  also  slipped  one  on  the 
old  chief,  but  could  not  get  him  out  in  the  sun 
where  I  wanted  him.    The  three  bucks  were  very 


164  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

surly  and  kept  where  I  could  not  get  them  at 
all,  but  presently  some  younger  members  of  the 
tribe  ventured  out  and  I  snapped  them.  "He 
says  that  they  have  hunted  all  around  this  coun- 
try and  that  we  better  pull  back  to  the  Bonito," 
advised  Hi,  turning  to  me  after  a  short  pow-wow 
with  the  chief. 

We  made  our  adieus  a  short  time  after  and 
got  away  amicably  enough.  You  couldn't  call 
our  meeting  very  cordial,  but  it  was  far  better 
than  we  anticipated. 

It  turned  out  later  that  the  Apaches  had  not 
been  doing  much  more  than  rustling  a  few  horses 
occasionally.  As  we  rode  back,  however,  we  saw 
one  buck  sitting  on  a  rock  with  his  gun  between 
his  knees,  just  where  Hi  said  he  guessed  they 
were  strung  out  looking  at  us  over  their  sights 
in  anticipation  of  a  hostile  meeting,  and  the  buck 
watched  us  out  of  sight  and,  for  all  we  know, 
trailed  us. 


VI 
FIRST   TRIP   TO   MEXICO 

Part  II — Hunting  on  the  Rio  Bonito 

Three  days  later  we  rode  down  on  the  Rio 
Bonito  and  pitched  a  permanent  camp.  I  re- 
mained in  camp  to  do  a  Httle  reading  and  writ- 
ing, and  incidentally  to  rest  up  a  little  after  sev- 
eral daj^s  of  continuous  riding.  Hi  went  out  to 
get  some  meat  for  camp,  and  whenever  I  sent 
him  out  on  such  an  errand  he  never  failed  to 
bring  in  a  deer.  Unexpectedly  and  without  go- 
ing out  of  camp  I  succeeded  in  increasing  the 
meat  supply  myself;  I  was  sitting  just  outside 
of  my  tent,  reading,  and  after  finishing  a  story 
laid  down  my  book.  Just  then  I  happened  to 
glance  out  on  a  little  flat  directly  in  front,  about 
seventy  yards  away.  Here  a  flock  of  turkey  were 
walking  about  as  unconcerned  as  you  please. 

"This  is  really  too  easy!"  I  thought,  my  rifle 
being  right  at  my  hand,  and  opened  fire,  shoot- 
ing two  before  they  flew.    They  lit  just  around 

i6s 


166  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

the  point,  a  little  nearer,  if  anything,  than  they 
were  at  first,  apparently  not  having  located  the 
point  of  danger. 

"Nothing  to  it!"  I  exclaimed  under  my  breath, 
knocking  down  two  more  before  they  bid  me 
farewell.  These  turkeys  were  a  highly  unsophis- 
ticated lot.  I  picked  up  three ;  one  unfortunately 
got  away  in  the  brush,  crippled.  Hi  rode  into 
camp  in  the  afternoon,  bringing  in  a  deer,  and 
reported  plenty  of  lion  sign,  but  he  believed  that 
the  bear  had  holed  up  for  the  winter. 

We  were  all  astir  at  the  crack  of  dawn  and 
rode  out  of  camp  the  following  day  before  the 
sun  had  put  in  an  appearance.  After  going  not 
more  than  a  mile  or  two  from  camp  the  dogs 
picked  up  a  trail  and  tried  to  puzzle  it  out,  but  it 
evidently  was  not  very  fresh,  so  Hi  called  them 
off.  We  rode  up  the  north  branch  of  the  Bonito, 
and  I  think  it  was  the  wildest  canon  I  had  yet 
visited.  We  were  riding  on  one  side  of  the  river, 
while  some  of  the  dogs  had  crossed  to  the  other. 
"Those  dogs  are  shore  acting  mighty  queer  over 
there,"  said  Hi,  reining  up  and  peering  across 
the  creek.  Just  then  Jewel,  who  had  the  keenest 
nose  of  the  pack,  started  the  music  with  her  busi- 
ness-like bark  and  lost  no  time  in  getting  over 
the  ridge,  closely  followed  by  old  Don  and  Red. 


Scene  on  the  Rio  Bonito. 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      169 

It  was  interesting  to  see  the  dogs  swim  the  river 
and  watch  each  one  as  they  struck  the  trail  satisfy 
themselves  that  it  was  all  right,  relieve  themselves 
of  their  first  long  howl  and  tear  off  on  the  chase. 
Nig,  the  smallest  member  of  the  pack,  with  his 
little  short  barks  and  his  tail  going  as  fast  as  he 
could  make  it  wag  from  side  to  side,  seemed  to 
be  having  the  time  of  his  life  as  he  disappeared 
over  the  ridge.  By  this  time  Hi  had  crossed,  and 
he  knelt  down  over  the  tracks.  "It's  a  lion  and 
an  old  big  fellow,  too,"  he  announced,  after  ex- 
amining the  ground.  Up  the  hill  we  climbed, 
then,  mounting  our  horses  again,  we  had  a  good 
run  for  several  hundred  yards ;  here  the  lion  had 
turned  off  at  right  angles  and  had  run  down  a 
little  dry  canon;  we  followed  down  at  one  side 
until,  coming  out  on  a  rock  ledge,  we  left  our 
horses  and  followed  on  foot.  The  dogs  were  in 
plain  hearing  and  near  by. 

"Come  on  I  You'll  get  him  now;  they  are  hold- 
ing him  up  just  below  here,"  yelled  Hi.  I  was 
not  long  in  reaching  the  pack,  which  had  the 
lion  treed  in  a  low  oak.  He  was  intently  watch- 
ing the  dogs,  baring  his  teeth  and  lashing  his  tail. 
The  canon  at  this  point  was  very  narrow  and  I 
was  on  the  other  side,  some  thirty  j^ards  from  the 
lion,  when  he  discovered  me.    As  I  took  aim  he 


170  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

uttered  a  low,  menacing  growl.  The  bullet  sped 
true  and  he  fell  lifeless  to  the  ground.  We  had 
to  drive  the  dogs  off  to  keep  them  from  tearing 
the  hide,  as  I  wanted  the  skin  in  good  shape.  Be- 
fore skinning,  we  took  several  pictures  and  meas- 
ured him.  He  was  just  seven  feet  six  inches. 
This  is  about  as  large  a  male  as  is  usually  found, 
although  they  are  sometimes  taken  larger.  Out 
of  fourteen  killed  on  Mr.  Roosevelt's  hunt  the 
largest  measured  eight  feet;  the  rest  ranging 
from  four  and  a  half  to  seven.  This  was  the 
best  day  we  had  had  and  there  was  much  rejoic- 
ing around  the  camp-fire  that  night. 

While  Hi  w^as  busy  next  day  doing  a  little 
work  on  the  lion  hide,  I  took  my  shotgun  and 
climbed  up  to  a  high  mesa  to  bag  a  few  of  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  quail  native  in  this  section.  Prob- 
ably few  sportsmen  are  acquainted  with  this  odd 
species  of  a  most  beautiful  game  bird.  It  is 
locally  called  "fool  quail,"  but  the  proper  name 
is  Messena  partridge,  known  in  territories  it  fre- 
quents within  our  borders  as  the  black,  black- 
bellied  or  fool  quail.  The  Messena  partridge  is 
the  most  fantastically  colored  of  all  the  family 
to  which  it  belongs,  with  a  head-stripe  mark  like 
those  of  the  clown  in  a  pantomime.  It  is,  how- 
ever, a  very  handsome  bird  and  would  attract  at- 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      173 

tention  wherever  seen.  It  ranges  in  more  or  less 
abundance  from  Western  Texas  in  the  vicinity  of 
San  Antonio  through  New  Mexico,  and  into  Ari- 
zona as  far  as  Fort  Whipple,  which  is  about  its 
western  limit.  In  North  Mexico,  especially  in 
and  about  the  country  I  hunted,  the  Messena 
partridge  is  no  doubt  more  plentiful  than  in  any 
other  section.  It  is  usually  found  on  the  high 
mesas  ranging  in  elevation  from  4,000  to  9,000 
feet.  It  was  not  long  before  I  ran  into  a  covey. 
They  lie  very  close  and  usually  flush  one  at  a 
time,  fly  swiftly  but  straight  away,  presenting  ^a 
not  very  difficult  shot.  I  bagged  six  of  these 
plump  little  fellows  without  a  miss,  and  could 
have  brought  down  more  but  this  is  all  we  wanted 
for  supper.  Game  was  plentiful  on  the  Bonito, 
and  I  was  having  royal  sport.  I  had  already 
stayed  longer  than  I  had  anticipated.  We  fig- 
ured out  we  had  enough  supplies  to  last  us  sev- 
eral days,  so  we  counted  on  reaching  Pacheco 
Christmas  night,  which  was  but  six  days  oif .  I 
got  a  shot  at  a  deer  at  160  paces,  and  dropped 
him  with  a  bullet  through  the  base  of  the  neck, 
and  at  another  time  I  shot  a  deer  at  120  paces, 
through  the  shoulder,  penetrating  to  the  other 
side,  and  hit  him  twice  more  as  he  ran  from  me, 
one    quartering   through   the   hip    and   another 


174  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

through  the  middle.  This  buck  then  ran  over  a 
hundred  yards,  shot  up  the  way  he  was,  before 
he  finally  dropped. 

The  deer  here  are  all  white-tail,  and  are  con- 
siderably smaller  than  those  I  have  killed  in  the 
States.  There  are,  however,  a  few  black-tailed 
deer,  some  fifty  miles  from  where  I  was  hunting. 
We  caught  all  the  trout  we  could  eat,  their  aver- 
age being  about  a  pound.  These  fish,  although 
splendid  eating,  and  called  trout,  were  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  trout  I  had  caught  in  the  United 
States  and  Canada.  One  day  when  we  were  off 
on  a  ride  we  found  some  otter  tracks  along  the 
river,  so  acting  on  Hi's  suggestion,  I  took  a  shot- 
gun down  that  night  to  watch  by  moonlight.  We 
had  not  been  waiting  more  than  an  hour  when 
I  could  plainly  see  something  swimming  the 
river.  Loaded  with  double  B  shot,  I  fired  twice, 
and  a  good-sized  otter  floated  to  the  top  of  the 
water,  quite  dead.  I  had  often  tried  to  get  one 
of  these  little  animals,  as  their  hide  is  well  worth 
having  in  a  collection. 

We  had  been  very  fortunate  in  riding  over  the 
rough  country  we  hunted  not  to  lame  any  of  the 
horses  nor  had  we  lost  any  of  the  dogs;  but  a 
slight  misfortune  befell  us  which  turned  out  to 
be  of  some  advantage  to  myself.    In  the  outfit 


FIRST   TRIP   TO   MEXICO      177 

was  a  buckskin  horse  called  Buck.  One  morning 
when  Walter  rounded  up  the  horses,  Buck 
seemed  to  be  a  pretty  sick  animal.  Hi  discov- 
ered he  had  been  bitten  by  some  poisonous  fly, 
which  he  called  a  bott-fly,  and  thought  there  was 
not  much  hope  for  him.  That  night  Buck  kept 
wandering  right  into  camp  and  would  walk  up 
to  the  fire  and  almost  into  it  if  we  did  not  drive 
him  off.  Finally  he  wandered  aimlessly  down 
the  canon,  and  the  next  afternoon,  after  follow- 
ing his  tracks  for  several  miles,  we  found  where 
Buck  had  lain  down  and  died  in  an  open  spot 
near  the  river.  It  was  nearly  full  moon  that 
night  and  I  thought  I  would  like  to  try  my  luck 
watching  the  carcass  for  a  few  hours  in  the  hope 
of  bagging  some  night  prowler, -preferably  a  lion. 
After  eating  a  few  biscuits  and  dried  deer  meat 
which  we  had  with  us,  I  hid  myself  in  some  brush 
about  twenty  yards  from  the  dead  horse.  Hi 
took  my  horse  about  half  a  mile  up  the  canon 
and  waited.  He  was  to  return  upon  hearing  a 
shot,  which  would  mean  that  I  had  either  ob- 
tained my  shot  or  was  a  signal  that  I  was  tired 
of  my  lonesome  watch. 

The  last  faint  blush  of  sunset  had  melted  into 
dusk  and  the  hush  of  night  was  not  long  in  creep- 
ing over  the  weird  scene,  and  wrapping  every- 


178  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

thing  in  darkness.  Nothing  but  the  doleful  hoot 
of  an  owl  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night.  At 
last  the  moon  rose  over  the  peak  tops  and  flooded 
the  canon  with  its  light  of  simmering  moon- 
beams. A  long-drawn-out  wail  floated  do^Ti  the 
canon  and  died  away.  Some  lone  gray  wolf 
howling  his  serenade  to  the  moon.  I  was  strain- 
ing my  eyes  in  all  directions,  and  Hstening  for 
the  shghtest  sound,  lest  the  cunning  cougar,  with 
velvet  tread,  would  steal  up,  take  in  the  situation 
and  slink  away  unnoticed.  Presently  I  heard  a 
slight  noise  to  my  right,  and  upon  looking  saw  a 
little  skunk  run  bj^  almost  within  arm's  reach. 
He  stopped  at  the  carcass  and  commenced  his 
evening  meal.  A  few  minutes  lapsed  and  I  saw 
the  skunk  hurrying  away,  as  if  disturbed  by  some 
unseen  object.  Almost  directly  in  front,  and 
some  forty  yards  away,  was  a  boulder  about  ten 
feet  in  diameter.  The  queer  action  of  the  skunk 
made  me  all  the  more  alert,  and  looking  carefully 
I  made  out  a  form,  crouching  low,  just  over  the 
boulder  in  front.  With  all  my  caution  this  ani- 
mal had  stolen  up  while  I  was  unaware.  I 
glanced  for  a  moment  to  be  sure,  when  the  form 
disappeared  behind  the  boulder  as  mysteriously 
and  as  silently  as  it  had  appeared.  I  felt  that  I 
had  been  outwitted,  when  out  from  beliind  the 


About    as   large   a    male   as   is   usually    found. 


FIRST    TRIP    TO    MEXICO      181 

boulder,  with  slow,  deliberate  strides,  walked  a 
lion,  every  step  bringing  her  within  easy  range. 
On  she  came,  thirty  yards,  twenty-five  yards,  and 
she  stopped,  seeming  to  scent  the  air.  My  eye 
ran  along  the  little  ivory  front  sight  and  I  pressed 
the  trigger.  With  one  great  bound  the  beast 
cleared  the  earth  some  eight  or  ten  feet,  and  rent 
the  air  with  a  most  piercing  scream.  As  she  came 
to  the  ground  she  seemed  to  gather  herself  for 
another  spring,  as  I  was  about  to  fire  the  second 
time;  but  just  at  that  moment  her  feet  seemed  to 
fall  from  under  her  and  she  toppled  over  on  her 
side  and  lay  motionless,  save  for  an  occasional 
switch  of  her  tail.  This  lion  proved  to  be  a 
female,  not  as  large  as  the  first  lion.  She  meas- 
ured a  little  over  six  feet.  I  had  been  looking 
forward  to  a  smoke,  so  filled  my  pipe,  and  had 
not  taken  many  puffs  when  I  heard  Hi  coming 
with  the  horses. 

"Who  made  that  scream,  you  or  the  lion?" 
he  called  as  his  figure  loomed  up  through  the 
darkness.    Hi  was  always  there  with  his  joke. 

After  a  few  days  more  hunting  we  broke  camp 
and  said  good-bye  to  the  Rio  Bonito.  Christmas 
eve  we  camped  on  North  Creek.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful starlit  night,  but  the  coldest  we  had  had,  ice 
forming  an  inch  thick.    Christmas  night  we  rode 


182  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

into  Colonia  Pacheco.  Two  days  later  I  reached 
the  railroad  at  Casas  Grandes,  to  find  that  the 
revolutionists  had  blown  up  the  bridges  and  cut 
the  wires  to  the  north,  putting  the  railroad  and 
all  communications  out  of  commission.  I  re- 
mained three  days  in  Casas  Grandes  endeavoring 
to  hire  some  one  to  drive  me  to  Columbus,  N.  M., 
a  distance  of  150  miles,  where  I  would  be  able 
to  take  the  train  to  El  Paso  and  make  my  return 
trip  to  New  York.  There  were  about  300  troops 
stationed  at  Casas  Grandes  and  during  my  stay 
the  revolutionists  marched  on  the  town,  but  were 
driven  back  by  the  troops,  with  heavy  losses  on 
both  sides.  The  day  before  I  left,  a  small  town 
called  Hannas,  twelve  miles  away,  was  taken  by 
the  revolutionists.  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
four  other  Americans  who  were  anxious  to  get 
out  to  the  States.  We  succeeded  in  getting  a 
man  with  a  four-horse  team  to  drive  us  out.  It 
took  us  three  days  and  a  half  to  reach  Columbus, 
and  it  seemed  good  to  get  back  in  my  own  coun- 
try once  more.  The  return  trip  to  New  York  was 
filled  with  pleasant  recollections  of  the  hunt. 


VII 
THE  AMERICAN  BLACK  BEAR 

Part  I — Studying  the  Black  Bear 

IN  THE  Rockies 

Neither  a  rattlesnake  nor  a  black  bear  will  do 
you  the  least  bit  of  harm  if  you  mind  your  own 
business,  and  at  least  give  them  elbow  room. 
Neither  one  has  any  desire  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance. In  fact,  it  has  been  my  impression 
that  a  black  bear  makes  a  business  of  keeping 
out  of  sight,  and  w  ould  say  that  he  attends  to  his 
business  very  well  indeed.  If  by  any  chance, 
though,  you  have  approached  so  near  that  you 
should  make  either  of  them  feel  you  are  too  un- 
comfortably near,  they  will  both  strike  with  a 
vengeance,  in  their  own  way,  peculiar  to  each. 

It  is  the  common  idea  that  a  black  bear  will 
hug  people  to  death.  This  is  of  course  a  mistake. 
A  bear  almost  invariably  makes  its  attack  by 
striking  a  stunning  blow  with  the  forepaw  and 

tearing  with  his  very  f  omiidable  claws.    A  large 

183 


184  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

black  bear  can  strike  a  terrific  blow  and  is  capable 
of  knocking  down  and  mortally  wounding  a  full 
grown  caribou.     When  their  enemy  or  prey  is 
felled  to  the  ground  they  usually  bite  them  about 
the  head  and  neck  until  death  ensues.    They  are 
remarkable  for  the  strength  of  their  jaws,  and 
have  been  known  to  bite  through  the  skull  of  a 
man.      JVIany    animals    that    can    generally    be 
counted  on  not  to  attack  may  do  so  when  come 
upon  suddenly,  crowded,  wounded  or  annoyed. 
The  black  bear  is  no  exception.    The  more  I  see 
and  study  animals  the  more  I  am  impressed  with 
the  fact  that  there  is  no  fixed  rule  what  the  same 
species  of  animal  will  do  under  similar  circum- 
stances, as  they  seem  to  vary  as  much  in  mind 
and  temperament  as  the  individual.     Although 
one  might  predict  with  a  very  good  average  of 
correctness,  there  would  always  be  the  exception. 
I  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  study- 
ing bears, — especially  the  black,  possibly  because 
I  have  had  a  better  chance  to  observe  him.    I  have 
met  him  in  his  natural  haunts  at  various  times 
of  the  year,  in  the  Rockies,  Canada  and  JNIexico, 
and  find  him  much  the  same  good-natured  fel- 
low; yes,  even  playful,  unless  something  should 
befall  him  to  ruffle  his  otherwise  peaceful  nature; 
then  he  may  become  "as  cross  as  a  bear." 


THE   AMERICAN   BLACK    BEAR  187 

There  are  only  two  species  of  bear  that  inhabit 
the  United  States,  the  grizzly  and  the  black  bear. 
This  does  not,  of  course,  include  the  several 
species  found  in  Alaska.  The  black  bears  are 
divided  into  sub-species,  and  although  the  differ- 
ence is  not  very  conspicuous  to  the  common  eye, 
naturalists  have  agreed  quite  generally  on  the 
following  list  as  covering  those  within  our  bor- 
ders. The  name  in  parenthesis  is  that  of  the  man 
who  has  been  credited  with  having  classified  them : 

The  American  Black  Bear,  JJrsus  Americanus 
(Pallas). 

Florida  Black  Bear,  JJrsus  Floridanus  (Mer- 
riam). 

Louisiana  Black  Bear,  JJrsus  Luterlus  (Grif- 
fith). 

Northwestern  Black  Bear,  JJrsus  Arti fron- 
talis (Elliott). 

Clallam  County,  Washington. 

The  fact  that  the  second  species  is  called  a 
black  bear  leads  many  people  to  believe  that  it 
necessarily  follows  that  a  bear  to  belong  to  the 
latter  species  has  to  be  black,  but  I  can  almost  see 
you  smile  when  I  tell  you  that  you  may  kill  a 
black  bear  that  is  white.  By  this  I  mean  to  illus- 
trate that  bears  belonging  to  the  black  bear 
species  enjoy  a  cheerful  amount  of  color  varia- 


188  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

tion,  and  in  speaking  of  a  black  bear  that  is  white 
I  refer  to  the  Albinos  seen  in  the  vicinity  of  Flat 
Head  Lake,  IMontana,  by  one  of  our  most  excel- 
lent authorities  on  bears,  Mr.  William  H. 
Wright.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  no 
brown  or  cinnamon-colored  bears  in  the  United 
States,  for  I  have  killed  both.  But  these  bears 
all  belong  to  the  black  bear  species  and  are 
simply  a  color  variation,  just  as  one  might  find  a 
white  setter  dog  and  a  red  in  the  same  family, 
while  the  difference  between  a  brown-colored 
black  bear  and  a  brown-colored  grizzly  is  one  of 
genus. 

The  grizzly,  too,  varies  in  color,  but  not  nearly 
so  much  as  do  the  black  bears.  In  some  sections 
one  color  will  be  more  plentiful  than  in  another. 
For  instance,  in  talking  to  many  of  the  oldest 
v.'oodsmen  in  ^Nlaine  and  up  through  Xew  Bruns- 
wick they  could  not  recall  a  brown  bear  ever 
having  been  killed,  but  had  seen  a  great  number 
of  black  ones.  Out  of  seven  killed  by  myself 
through  this  section  all  were  coal  black,  and  I  saw 
many  more  fresh  skins  that  helped  to  bear  out 
the  supposition  that  they  are  invariably  black 
through  this  particular  country. 

On  the  other  hand,  while  hunting  through  the 
Rockies,   I  have  seen  and  killed  many  browTi 


THE    AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  189 

ones,  and  have  found  black  and  brown  bears  in 
the  same  section,  even  in  each  other's  company, 
and  will  cite  a  personal  experience  I  think  will  be 
worth  while  relating: 

We  had  pulled  camp  three  times  and  had 
shifted  high  up  in  the  main  range,  where  we 
finally  pitched  camp  on  the  north  fork  of  the  Elk 
River.  The  river  at  this  point  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  good-sized  brook,  but  it  supplied 
us  with  excellent  water.  We  were  not  far  from 
the  Wyoming  line  in  North  Colorado,  and  the 
altitude  was,  I  should  judge,  between  7,000  and 
8,000  feet.  It  was  the  old  story  of  being  very 
low  on  provisions  (more  generally  called  out  there 
"chuck"),  so  we  had  cut  down  to  two  meals  a 
day  (flapjacks  and  venison).  On  this  particular 
morning  we  arose  in  the  dark,  as  usual,  broke 
through  the  ice  to  get  our  customary  bucket  of 
water,  and  started  to  get  what  little  breakfast  we 
could  scrape  together. 

My  man  (whose  name  was  George)  looked  at 
me  rather  solemnly  and  said:  "Well,  this  is  the 
last  time  I  can  make  coffee,  and  the  chuck  is 
about  out,  so  I  reckon  we'd  better  pull  up  and 
quit."  I  said  I  would  like  to  hold  on  for  a  day 
or  two  as,  judging  from  the  many  indications  up 
along  the  ridges,  bears  in  this  section  were  un- 


190  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

usually  plentiful,  and  it  seemed  almost  a  certainty 
that  something  interesting  was  going  to  happen 
soon.  We  decided  that  George  should  drop  down 
in  the  lower  country  and  try  for  another  buck,  as 
we  were  in  need  of  more  meat  for  camp — while  I 
was  to  hunt  up  along  the  ridges  and  try  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  another  bear  or  two.  It  was 
just  getting  daylight  when  I  saddled  up  my  fav- 
orite horse,  Coley  (an  adept  at  climbing  these 
ridges) ,  and  started  up  a  trail  which  led  along  this 
truly  wild  rivulet.  Following  this  trail  some 
three  miles,  I  turned  at  right  angles  and  rode  up 
an  enormous  gulch  some  two  or  three  miles. 
Here  Coley  and  I  started  to  climb  up  the  steep 
ridge  and  into  the  big  timbers.  A  light  fall  of 
snow  that  morning  had  just  covered  the  ground 
and  rather  added  to  the  difficulty  of  climbing  the 
steep  ridge,  so  some  distance  from  the  top  I  dis- 
mounted, tied  Coley  to  a  tree,  took  my  rifle 
and  proceeded  on  foot.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  ridge  it  sloped  away  to  the  north  and  the 
timbers  are  mostly  evergreens,  balsam,  pine  and 
spruce.  As  I  climbed  to  the  top  and  carefully 
peered  over  the  giddy  edge  down  into  the  grim 
wild  slope  of  wilderness,  huge  rocks,  great  pines, 
masses  of  tangled  growth,  made  the  scene  wild 
and  haunting. 


THE   AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  191 

There  was  no  sound, — at  least  none  met  my 
ears,  nothing  moved,  there  seemed  no  life  down 
there,  but  death  might  lurk  in  every  shadow.  The 
snow  had  laid  a  finger  on  all  Nature's  lips,  and  a 
breath  floated  up  through  the  gorge,  that  whis- 
pered one  word, — "Silence!"  or  was  it  "Death!" 
I  am  not  sure  which.  At  length  I  could  feel  my 
curiosity  beckoning  me  below  in  the  forest  gloom, 
but  why?  Could  I  not  see  quite  well  anything 
that  might  saunter  by?  Or  would  not  every 
passing  sound  float  up  my  way?  Perhaps  so 
and  perhaps  not.  At  any  rate  I  must  explore 
so  weird  a  place,  and  stealthily,  too,  if  only  to 
harmonize  with  it  all.  I  looked  carefully  along 
the  top  of  the  ridge  for  a  place  to  descend,  and 
soon  found  a  little  game  trail  that  ran  quite  ab- 
ruptly down.  The  steepness  and  covering  of 
snow  made  a  footing  entirely  too  uncertain,  and 
seated  as  I  was  at  the  top,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
I  might  slide  down  toboggan-fashion,  minus  the 
toboggan.  I  soon  found  myself  sliding  along 
rapidly,  and  to  my  delight,  very  silently,  too. 
My  new  method  of  stalking  worked  splendidly 
for  some  60  or  70  feet,  when  I  finally  slowed  up 
and  came  to  a  full  stop  at  the  foot  of  a  great  pine 
tree  that  had  conveniently  fallen,  so  that  after 
carefully  rising  so  as  to  swing  my  foot  over  the 


192  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

other  side,  I  sat  astride,  for  another  sharp  look 
and  to  Hsten. 

I  had  no  sooner  gained  my  comfortable  seat 
than  directly  in  front  of  me,  not  more  than 
twenty-five  yards  distant,  my  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  a  "Whoof!"  Now,  if  I  had  known 
exactly  where  this  bear  was  and  had  practiced 
stalking  it  all  my  life  I  could  not  have  done  it 
better,  though  it  was,  of  course,  mostly  a  matter 
of  luck.  I  could  just  see  his  black  head  and  neck, 
a  bush  concealing  the  rest  of  him  completely. 
Upon  hearing  his  Whoof!  I  had  swung  my  little 
carbine  to  my  shoulder  (for  I  was  only  carrying 
a  .32  special),  and  dropped  a  ball  through  the 
lower  part  of  his  neck.  The  bear  went  down, 
falling  behind  some  brush  and  rocks,  which  pre- 
vented me  momentarily  from  seeing  him  while 
I  worked  the  lever  in  case  another  shot  was 
needed.  To  my  surprise  the  bear  had  gained  his 
feet  and  was  coming  up  a  little  trail  that  led  di- 
rectly toward  me.  Now,  I  did  not  think  for  a 
moment  that  this  bear  was  charging  me;  I  be- 
lieved he  was  simply  running  blind  and  had  taken 
this  trail  as  the  easiest  apparent  way  of  making 
off.  Contrary  to  all  my  learning  and  experience 
here  was  a  black  bear  coming  on,  and,  what  was 
more,  getting  uncomfortably  close,  too.     I  got 


Mv   favorite  hiintini;;  horse.  Cole' 


Packing   in   a   deer. 


THE   AMERICAN   BLACK   BEAR  195 

down  in  my  sights  again  and  no  snap  shots  for  me 
this  time ;  I  really  meant  to  do  some  aiming.  The 
bear  was  below  me  and  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
yards  off.  I  pulled  down  for  the  top  of  his 
head  and  hurled  a  bullet  exactly  between  his  ears 
that  rung  down  the  curtain  on  this  bear  story  in 
a  hurry. 

This  all  happened  in  a  space  of  time  that  it 
takes  to  press  the  trigger  of  your  rifle,  work  your 
lever  (if  you  have  one),  sight  and  shoot  again — 
a  matter  of  two  or  three  seconds.  Up  to  the 
present  time  everything  that  had  happened  had 
been  the  unexpected,  but  a  most  remarkable  Act 
II  was  announced  by  a  second  "Whoof!  Whoof!" 
It  might  be  well  to  mention  right  here  that  the 
day  before  I  had  lost  my  hunting-knife  and  had 
come  out  this  morning  with  just  six  cartridges, 
for  the  reason,  firstly,  that  we  were  low  in  am- 
munition, and  secondly,  my  experience  was  that 
I  seldom  used  more  than  two  cartridges  in  a  day, 
more  often  none  at  all.  I  still  had  four  shots 
left,  which  should  be  plenty  for  almost  any  occa- 
sion, but  at  the  rate  bears  were  turning  up  I  was 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  I  had  none  to  waste. 
All  this  time,  you  will  remember,  I  was  perched 
on  the  great  fallen  pine.  I  had,  however,  drawn 
one  leg  up,  resting  the  other  on  the  ground,  and 


196  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

shooting  from  a  sitting  position,  mostly  from 
lack  of  time  to  rise.  Now  I  was  on  my  feet  and 
had  swung  my  gun  at  right  angles,  where,  at 
a])out  the  same  distance  away  as  the  black  bear,  I 
could  see  the  fore  part  of  a  brown  bear.  I  re- 
member as  I  glanced  along  the  sights,  I  thought 
to  myself,  "Ah,  I  am  going  to  get  a  grizzly, — 
or  at  least  one  of  us  is  going  to  get  the  other." 
It  seemed  so  intrusive  and  out  of  place  to  rend 
the  silence  of  such  a  well-chosen  retreat  with 
the  thundering  of  a  gun;  but  this  is  exactly  what 
I  did,  the  bear  presenting  a  very  similar  shot  to 
the  black  one.  I  shot  too  low  in  the  neck,  the 
shoulders  again  being  concealed.  At  the  crack 
of  the  rifle  this  bear  crumpled  as  did  the  other, 
only  to  rise  again  just  as  quickly,  and  this  time 
he  reared  up  and  made  a  vicious  stroke  with  one 
paw  at  a  nearby  bush,  breaking  off  the  branches, 
which  were  about  the  size  of  a  broom  handle,  like 
so  many  little  toothpicks.  At  this  moment  he 
made  the  woods  fairly  ring  with  his  bawling.  I 
have  never  heard  a  bear,  before  or  since,  make 
so  much  noise.  Bears  always  look  larger  when 
they  stand  up,  and  a  little  nearer  than  they  really 
are  So  as  he  presented  a  fine  heart  shot  I  thought 
I  would  lose  no  time.  My  second  shot  passed 
through  the  top  of  the  heart,  cutting  some  of  the 


THE    AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  197 

large  blood  vessels,  and  death  came  almost  im- 
mediately. 

I  still  had  two  cartridges  left,  and  stood  for  a 
few  moments  carefully  scanning  my  surround- 
ings, half  expecting  Number  Three  to  appear. 
But  evidently  this  ^vas  all.  Now,  whether  I  had 
grizzlies  on  my  mind,  or  whether  it  was  the  sub- 
dued light  caused  by  the  thickness  of  the  woods, 
that  I  made  such  a  mistake  to  take  this  brown 
bear  for  a  grizzly,  I  cannot  say.  I  should  have 
known  first,  b}^  the  conformation  of  the  head, 
and  second,  bj'^  the  fact  that  black  bears  and 
grizzlies  do  not  associate  together.  However, 
they  frequently  occupy  the  same  range,  but  a 
black  bear  generally  gives  a  grizzly  a  wdde  berth. 

The  black  bear  was  in  fine  fur,  and  as  coal 
black  as  my  horse  Coley.  The  brown  was  in 
equally  fine  fur  and  of  a  good  seal-brown  color. 
The  bears  were  both  males  and  their  skins  com- 
pared almost  exactly  in  size.  It  is  my  opinion 
they  were  brothers,  and  had  denned  together  the 
previous  fall.  Although  apparently  together,  I 
think  it  doubtful  that  they  would  den  together 
this  fall,  as  this  would  be,  I  believe,  unusual.  As 
near  as  I  could  judge,  they  would  both  be  three 
years  old  the  following  spring. 

I  made  it  my  business  to  find  out  exactly  what 


198  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

this  brown  bear  had  been  doing  while  I  was  doing 
battle  with  his  brother,  for  I  knew  perfectly  well 
he  was  not  standing  there  all  that  time  watching 
me,  even  if  it  was  only  a  matter  of  two  or  three 
seconds.  A  bear  can  get  a  long  ways  in  that  time. 
I  back-tracked  him  in  the  snow  to  where  he  had, 
without  a  doubt,  come  out  of  a  deep  cleft  in  the 
rocks.  The  opening  was  large  enough  to  enter  in 
a  stooping  position,  and  I  could  see  where  he  had 
gone  in  and  come  out.  Of  course  I  could  see 
where  he  had  come  out,  for  I  have  enough  caution 
not  to  walk  into  caverns  when  the  tracks  are  all 
going  in  and  none  coming  out;  that  means,  as 
a  rule,  your  friend  is  at  home,  and  although  I 
have  no  great  dread  of  bears,  I  would  not,  of 
course,  care  to  be  as  familiar  as  this.  The  cave 
immediately  narrowed  down  and  turned  off  at  a 
sharp  angle,  so  I  could  not  comfortably  go  far- 
ther. It  was  my  conclusion  that  he  was  either 
getting  ready  to  den  up  or  was  doing  a  little  ex- 
ploring on  his  own  account;  or  again,  at  the 
very  end  of  the  cave  he  might  have  stored  up  some 
dainty  morsel  of  food,  hiding  it  away  from  his 
little  brother.  But  whatever  his  object,  he  was 
evidently  there  when  I  first  shot,  and  had  run  out 
a  short  way  when  we  probably  discovered  each 
other  at  the  same  moment. 


THE    AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  199 

Not  having  a  knife,  I  of  course  could  not  skin 
the  bears,  nor  could  I  pack  them  over  to  Coley, 
or  vice  versa,  as  Coley  has  never  tried  toboggan- 
ing to  my  knowledge.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  hurry  back  to  camp  and  get  George  up 
with  his  knife  to  do  considerable  skinning  and 
pack  some  bear  meat  to  camp.  As  I  rode  into 
camp  I  found  George  had  also  just  returned,  and 
from  his  broad  smile  and  the  blood  on  his  hands 
I  knew  he  had  a  deer  hanging  up  somewhere. 
George  greeted  me  with:  "See  anything  this 
morning?" 

"I  sure  did,"  said  I. 

"Did  you  see  any  bear,  I  mean?" 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  mean,  too,"  I  retorted. 

"Did  you  kill  one?"  said  he,  finally. 

"I  killed  two." 

This  was  too  much  for  George.  "If  you  had 
told  me  you  had  killed  one,  I  would  have  believed 
you,  but  two  is  one  too  many,"  he  insisted. 

"Get  5^our  whetstone  and  knife,  saddle  up  your 
horse  again,  and  I  will  show  you  two  of  the 
best-looking  bear  you  have  seen  in  many  a  day. 
By  the  way,  we  will  have  to  let  that  deer  of  yours 
go  until  to-morrow,  before  packing  him  in." 

It  had  stopped  snowing,  the  sun  was  out  bright 
9-nd  had  melted  most  of  the  snow  before  we 


200  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

reached  the  spot.  It  was  long  after  dark  before 
we  returned  to  camp  with  the  two  skins  and  a 
g-ood-sized  piece  of  bear  meat.  We  sat  around 
and  waited  for  the  moon  to  come  up  and  give  us 
a  Httle  light  to  get  supper,  for  having  no  lamp, 
we  could  not  enjoy  the  luxury  of  an  artificial 
light. 

The  next  morning  we  packed  in  George's  deer. 
By  noon  we  broke  camp  and  were  soon  on  the 
trail,  headed  for  the  lower  country. 


VIII 
THE  AMERICAN  BLACK  BEAR 

Part  II — Characteristics,  Habits 
AND  Distribution 

I  HAVE  spent  a  good  many  weeks,  even  months, 
at  a  time,  in  the  various  ranges  of  the  black  bear, 
and  might  really  say  with  truth  that  we  have 
practically  lived  together  side  by  side.  Some- 
times just  a  little  ridge  might  have  separated  us, 
where  I  could  see,  possibly  the  next  morning 
after,  that  he  had  been  having  a  fine  feast  in  a 
blueberry  patch. 

One  night  we  were  a  little  more  sociable.  I  had 
just  removed  the  pelt  from  a  coyote,  and  had 
intended  carrying  the  carcass  away  from  the 
camp  the  next  day,  but  left  it  that  night  a  few 
feet  from  my  tent.  During  the  night  my  friend 
(who,  by  the  way,  always  reminds  me  of  a  good- 
natured  boy  with  a  fur  overcoat  on),  came  down 
and  saved  me  the  trouble  by  carrying  it  away  for 
me.     I  did  not  hear  him  arrive,  for  I  believe  I 


202  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

was  asleep,  but  the  telltale  tracks  were  enough 
to  convince  me  in  the  morning.  And  so  by  hav- 
ing lived  with  him  in  his  own  home,  watched, 
photographed,  and  studied  his  ways,  over  a  period 
of  a  good  many  years,  I  can  set  down  for  those 
who  may  be  interested,  some  of  his  characteristics, 
habits  and  distribution. 

The  range  of  the  black  bear  extends  from 
Mexico  to  Alaska,  and  they  have  been  met  with 
in  nearly  every  state  and  territory  within  the 
United  States;  also  Labrador,  Province  of  Que- 
bec, Alberta  and  Assiniboia,  British  Columbia, 
and  the  Mackenzie  River  Basin.  All  black  bears 
hibernate  during  the  winter  months.  There  are, 
however,  woodsmen  in  the  South  m4io  disagree 
with  me  on  this  point,  saying  they  have  seen  their 
tracks  during  every  month  of  the  winter,  and  the 
mild  climate  does  not  force  them  to  lie  up  in  a 
cave  or  den  as  it  would  in  the  more  severe  weather 
of  Northern  latitudes.  I  have  myself  seen  bear 
tracks  during  the  winter  months,  and  even  in 
the  deep  snow  of  the  Northern  states.  But  this 
is  the  exception,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  these 
bears  are  simply  shifting  to  another  sleej^ing 
place,  having  been  driven  out  for  one  reason  or 
another.  Their  dens  may  not  have  been  well 
chosen,  and  they  possibly  became  leaky,  or  ex- 


A  New  Brunswick  black  bear. 


THE    AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  205 

posed  to  the  winds,  or  some  hunter  might  pass 
that  way  with  a  keen-nosed,  inquisitive  ca- 
nine that  would  cause  him  to  roll  out  in  a  hurry. 
It  is  safe  to  say  all  black  bears  den  up  both 
North  and  South,  some  time  between  November 
1st  and  January  1st,  depending  on  the  altitude, 
weather  and  latitude.  They  emerge  in  the  spring, 
usually  from  the  first  part  of  April  to  the  middle 
of  May,  according  to  conditions,  the  males  often 
appearing  some  two  weeks  before  the  females. 
It  is  at  this  time  in  the  spring,  just  after  they 
have  left  their  winter  quarters,  that  a  bear's  pelt 
is  in  its  prime.  During  hibernation,  as  no  food 
is  laid  up,  they,  of  course,  do  not  eat,  nor  do  they 
drink,  unless  they  make  use  of  the  snow  that  has 
fallen  about  them.  Contrary  to  the  general  sup- 
position, they  are  not  in  a  deep  coma  or  hazy 
condition,  for  they  are  easily  aroused.  It  is  true 
that  they  sleep,  but  are  quick  to  detect  danger 
and  fully  equal  to  the  occasion  of  making  off 
and  looking  up  other  quarters  if  disturbed. 

The  cunning  little  cubs  ( for  what  deserves  the 
name  more  than  a  little  woolly,  black  cub?)  are 
brought  forth  during  hibernation,  usually  be- 
tween February  1st  and  JVIarch  1st,  and  it  is  sev- 
eral weeks  before  they  are  able  to  leave  the  den 
with  their  mother.    From  one  to  four  cubs  may 


206  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

be  born — I  would  say  two  or  three  is  the  average ; 
four  is  rare,  but  three  is  often  met  with,  and  a  she 
bear  followed  by  one  cub  does  not  always  indicate 
that  the  young  hopeful  had  no  brothers  or  sisters, 
as  they  may  not  have  survived  all  the  dangers 
of  cubdom.  At  birth  they  are  ridiculously  small, 
compared  with  the  size  of  the  mother,  and  weigh 
but  a  few  ounces.  I  have  never  weighed  one, 
but  understand  that  Dr.  Hornaday,  director  of 
the  ~New  York  Zoological  Park,  has,  and  that 
their  weight  runs  from  eight  to  eighteen  ounces, 
depending  on  the  number  in  the  litter.  Their 
eyes  are  closed— they  have  no  teeth,  nor  have  they 
their  little  furry  jacket  as  yet.  The  reason  ad- 
vanced for  bears  being  so  unusually  small  at 
birth,  is  that  the  old  bear  having  remained  all 
winter  M^thout  food,  and  not  being  able  to  forage 
for  some  weeks  after  the  young  are  born,  it  would 
naturally  be  a  great  drain  to  nurse  cubs  that 
weighed  several  pounds.  So  Nature  has  thus  pro- 
vided in  this  way. 

Unlike  the  grizzly,  the  black  bears  mate  every 
year,  or  nearly  so.  Grizzlies  may  be  put  doA^ai 
for  about  every  other  year.  When  the  cubs  are 
from  six  to  eight  weeks  old,  they  are  able  to 
accompany  their  mother  and  do  so  all  during  that 
summer.     It  is  usually  about  berry  time  before 


THE   AMERICAN   BLACK    BEAR  207 

the  little  fellows  develop  a  grown-up  appetite 
and  commence  to  rustle  for  themselves.  Not 
very  long  after  this  the  old  bear  drives  them  off 
to  shift  for  themselves.  In  some  cases  they  have 
been  found  denning  the  following  fall  with  their 
mother,  but  this  is  unusual. 

Now  a  little  bear  knows  exactly  what  he  wants, 
and  what  is  good  to  eat  just  as  well  as  you  do. 
He  knows  every  root,  every  bulb,  every  berry 
that  will  make  him  fat  and  happy.  How  does  he 
know  this?  I  cannot  say;  you  will  have  to  ask 
him.  When  I  say  this  I  have  in  mind  the  follow- 
ing case  that  was  brought  to  my  notice :  A  young 
cub,  only  a  few  weeks  old,  was  caught  one  spring 
and  fed  on  milk.  He  was  kept  in  camp  until 
the  following  fall  when  they  moved  camp  down 
on  some  bottom  lands.  Here,  while  running 
about,  he  would  suddenly  stop,  dig  up  some  roots 
and  devour  them  with  a  relish.  He  seemed  to  be 
as  fully  prepared  to  forage  for  himself  as  if  he 
had  been  taking  lessons  from  his  mother  all  sum- 
mer. Another  much  mistaken  idea  about  the 
black  bear  is  that  he  emerges  from  his  winter 
quarters  very  thin  and  emaciated  (this  so  far,  is 
true)  ;  that  he  is  desperately  hungry  after  his 
long  fast;  or  is  terribly  ferocious,  and  inclined 
to  attack  anything  on  sight,  man  included.    This 


208  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

is  not  so,  although  I  have  often  heard  it  so  stated. 
Not  even  a  black  bear  with  his  enviable  digestive 
apparatus  can  or  does  indulge  in  a  hearty  meal 
after  so  long  a  fast.  The  organs  of  a  bear  are 
no  different  from  those  of  a  man  in  this  respect, 
and  after  their  long  disuse  are  only  capable  of 
assimilating  the  daintiest  morsels  of  food — such 
as  grass  shoots,  tender  roots  and  the  hke.  In 
fact,  at  first  they  show  little  or  no  desire  to  eat, 
but  after  a  few  days  they  commence  to  partake 
again  of  pretty  much  everything.  I  say  this 
because  a  bear  is  omnivorous,  which  means  that  he 
eats  quite  generally  everything — both  vegetable 
and  meat.  They  are  not  as  carnivorous  as  gen- 
erally supposed,  usually  being  contented  with 
such  small  animals  as  ground  squirrels  and  field 
mice,  but  still,  when  the  opportunity  offers,  they 
have  a  great  propensity  for  stealing  down  ever 
so  carefully  to  a  near-by  farm  and  carrying  off  a 
fat  little  shoat.  They,  too,  have  a  great  weakness 
for  sheep,  and  it  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to 
mention  honey  and  sweets,  for  here  we  see  them 
again  like  good-natured,  mischievous  boj^s.  The 
various  insects  form  a  long  list  of  goodies  for 
them,  and  they  spend  much  of  their  time  over- 
turning stones,  prying  open  old  stumps  and  logs, 
poking  their  nose  and  sniffing  at  every  tiny  hole 


THE   AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  211 

or  crevice  for  such  dainty  morsels  as  grubs,  cater- 
pillars, crickets,  and  ants.  The  black  bear  seems 
to  partake  of  such  a  variety  of  food  that  it  is  hard 
to  say  just  which  he  enjoys  the  most.  Ants  are 
one  of  his  favorite  dishes,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  they  consume  as  many  of  these  as  some  of 
the  ant-eaters  of  South  America.  One  of  their 
favorite  methods  of  catching  a  certain  species  of 
ants,  which  are  very  vicious  little  fighters,  is  to 
thrust  a  paw  in  the  midst  of  one  of  their  hills,  and 
as  they  swarm  over  the  bear's  paw  with  the  pur- 
pose of  attacking  their  enemy,  they  are  quickly 
lapped  up. 

But  what  greater  picture  of  contentment  can 
one  imagine  than  a  bear  in  a  good-sized  blueberry 
patch?  Sitting  half  up  on  his  haunches  and 
pulling  the  branches  toward  him  with  his  paws — 
fairly  shoveling  in  the  berries  that  help  fatten 
.lim  up  for  the  long  winter — they  are  indeed  great 
berry  eaters  and  will  often  travel  miles  to  locate 
a  patch,  and  then  will  patronize  it  long  and  often. 

Last  fall  in  Sierra  Madre  Mountains  in  North- 
ern Mexico  I  was  camped  for  some  weeks  on  a 
wild  canon  through  which  ran  a  small  river. 
Along  the  banks  grew  numerous  juniper  trees 
and  for  several  miles  I  could  see  where  the 
branches  had  been  literally  all  pulled  down  by 


212  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

bears  in  pursuit  of  the  sweet  juniper  berries.  I 
do  not  think  I  have  ever  seen  so  much  bear  sign ; 
it  looked  as  if  all  the  bear  in  the  country  had  been 
in  on  the  great  feast.  It  was  the  latter  part  of 
December  and  they  had  just  recently  gone  into 
winter  quarters,  or  we  certainly  would  have  been 
able  to  make  a  record  on  bears  if  we  had  cared 
to.  There  is  another  red  berry  that  grows  in 
that  section  the  bear  are  very  fond  of,  I  think  the 
name  is  manacea.  It  is  a  low-growing  tree  and 
the  bears  are  often  given  to  sunning  themselves 
in  these  trees. 

Up  through  New  Brunswick  the  beech  nuts  are 
very  plentiful  and  I  found  bears  in  that  section 
feeding  extensively  upon  them,  and  so  it  goes 
in  diiferent  localities;  both  their  diet  and  habits 
are  inclined  to  differ  as  circumstances  require. 

The  black  bear  prefers  his  meat  well  tainted, 
and,  in  fact,  I  do  not  believe  it  can  be  too  strong 
for  him.  Unlike  the  grizzly  he  does  not  cover 
over  or  bury  a  carcass,  but  this  again  is  only  char- 
acteristic of  him,  for  he  does  not  feed,  or  in  fact 
do  anything,  as  systematically  or  as  seriously  as 
the  grizzly — much  preferring  a  little  mischief  to 
work,  and  here  again  we  see  him  the  happy-go- 
lucky  fellow.  I  cannot  take  space  to  mention  all 
the  fancies  of  his  appetite,  but  this  gives  a  very 


THE    AMERICAN    BLACK    BEAR  213 

good  general  idea  of  his  diet.  I  must  not  omit 
to  say,  however,  he  is  something  of  a  fisherman, 
both  for  gain  and  for  sport,  and  with  a  quick 
stroke  of  his  paw,  sends  many  an  unsuspecting 
fish  hurthng  through  the  air  to  land  well  up  on 
the  bank,  where  he  can  once  more  please  his 
palate. 

I  have  often  heard  of  seven  hundred  pound 
black  bears;  there  are  none.  Between  four  and 
five  hundred  pounds  are  as  heavy  as  they  will  ever 
tip  the  scales.  Bears  are  very  rarely  weighed  by 
hunters,  and  the  estimates  given  of  their  weight 
are  very  often  much  in  excess,  but,  of  course,  not 
always  purposely  so.  Broadly  speaking,  I  would 
say  that  the  average  weight  of  the  average  black 
bear,  taking  them  as  you  happen  to  find  them, 
would  be  approximately  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds.  I  am  not  speaking  of  full-grown  bears, 
as  one  is  likely  to  kill  several  partly-grown  bears 
to  one  full  grown.  A  full-grown  bear  in  the 
spring  may  weigh  but  a  little  over  two  hundred, 
and  the  same  bear  in  the  fall  might  easily  be  close 
to  a  four  hundred  pounder.  At  what  age  a  bear 
reaches  its  full  growth  no  one  can  say  exactly;  I 
am  inclined  to  think  some  mature  a  little  earlier 
than  others,  just  as  in  the  case  of  a  human  being. 
I  think  a  bear  of  six  years,  under  ordinary  cir- 


214  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

cumstances,  should  be  fully  grown ;  that  the  black 
bear  lives  at  least  to  the  age  of  twenty  I  am  sure, 
for  I  know  of  more  than  one  case  where  they 
have  been  kept  in  captivity  for  this  length  of 
time.  But  I  would  not  care  to  take  a  life  insur- 
ance risk  on  one  that  had  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-five,  as  I  think  this  is  about  their  limit. 

How  many  of  us  have  gone  into  the  woods  in 
our  early  hunting  days  (I  am  going  to  include 
myself  in  this)  and  looked  around  wondering 
which  would  be  the  safest  tree  to  shin  up  in  case 
an  old  black  bear  should  have  designs  on  us. 
Now  that  little  sapling  over  there  looks  good. 
They  say  a  slim  tree  with  no  low  branches  is  the 
best  to  nest  in  on  an  occasion  like  this.  But  for 
those  who  do  not  already  know,  we  will  settle  that 
question  right  here.  It  does  not  matter  in  the 
least  what  tree  you  select,  whether  it  is  one  some 
two  or  three  feet  in  diameter,  or  just  that  little 
sapling ;  it  is  safe  to  say  if  you  can  get  up,  so  can 
the  bear.  But  this  is  the  point;  he  w^on't  come. 
No  black  bear,  when  given  such  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity to  get  away,  will  stick  around.  Their 
claws,  which  are  very  unlike  those  of  the  grizzly, 
are  especially  adapted  for  climbing,  while  the 
front  paws  of  a  grizzly  are  especially  adapted  for 
digging,  being  long,  and  from  four  to  six  inches 


A   little    chap    in    trouble. 


THE   AMERICAN   BLACK   BEAR  21T 

in  length,  and  nearly  straight.  Grizzlies  do  not 
and  cannot  climb  trees.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
black  bear's  claws  are  shorter,  more  curved,  and 
thicker  at  the  base,  which  enables  them  to  go  up  a 
huge  tree  very  much  as  a  cat  or  a  squirrel  would, 
and  also  a  slim  one  just  large  enough  to  sustain 
their  weight. 

In  conclusion  would  say  that  I  do  not  pretend 
to  know  all  about  black  bears — no  one  man  can; 
but  I  have  found  them  sufficiently  interesting  to 
have  taken  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  devoting 
a  long  study  to  them,  and  have  here  set  down 
only  what  I  know  to  be  facts. 


IX 

WITH  A  MORMON  GUIDE  THROUGH 
THE  SIERRA  MADRES 

Looking  far  away  to  the  west  across  the  great 
expanse  of  sun-scorched  veldt,  the  huge,  jagged 
peaks  of  the  Sierra  Madres  loomed  up  ever  so 
clearly  against  the  skyline.  The  sun  was  just  go- 
ing to  rest,  and  the  scene,  with  its  ever-changing 
colors,  was  glorious  beyond  description.  Long 
threadlike  clouds  lingered  close  above  the  peak 
tops,  now  pink,  now  scarlet,  then  deepening  as 
the  light  waned  and  slowly  died  away,  leaving 
the  lofty  summits  in  a  cold,  blue  haze  that  made 
them  stand  out  bold,  grim  and  forbidding.  All 
the  world  shuddered,  for  night  had  come.  The 
night  prowlers  yawned,  stretched  themselves  and 
went  their  many  ways;  and  so  the  darkening 
hours  slipped  by  until  a  gray  light  in  the  east  in- 
dicated the  beginning  of  another  day. 

At  full  sunrise,  upon  gazing  across  the  same 
veldt,  a  little  cloud  of  dust  rose,  caused  by  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  a  pack-train.    The  horses 

218 


5' 


WITH   A   MORMON    GUIDE     221 

and  mules,  ten  of  them  in  all,  threaded  their  way 
along,  single  file,  while  at  the  head  rode  Hi  and 
myself.  Hi,  which  is  short  for  Hiram,  was  to 
be  with  me  again  this  year  in  the  capacity  of  head 
guide.  Manuel,  our  mozo,  followed  on  behind, 
keeping  the  animals  up  in  their  places.  Spot,  a 
shepherd  dog,  and  five  hounds  completed  the 
outfit. 

For  five  days  we  rode  to  the  west,  crossing 
the  open  and  slowly  ascending  the  foothills, 
then  climbing  up  the  mountains  until  we 
reached  and  crossed  the  Great  Divide  where 
it  reaches  the  height  of  9,000  feet  above  the 
sea.  On  the  third  night  we  camped  in  Cave 
Caiion,  taking  its  name  from  the  many  strange 
cave  formations.  The  caves  started  by  the  hand 
of  nature,  and  were  then  taken  up  and  completed 
by  the  prehistoric  cave-  or  cliff-dwellers.  This 
ancient  race  were  dwarfs,  proven  by  the  many 
skeletons  which  have  been  exhumed,  and  by  the 
diminutive  size  of  the  rooms  and  their  doorways. 
Of  all  the  many  caves  and  cliff  dwellings  in  which 
the  canon  abounds  there  is  none  more  interesting 
than  the  great  "011a"  cave  with  the  huge  "olla" 
or  vase,  twelve  feet  high,  built  to  hold  their  grain, 
which  stands  at  its  entrance.  Extending  far 
back  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  cave  are  many 


222  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

small  rooms,  whose  outside  walls  are  decorated 
with  hieroglyphics,  some  cut,  others  painted  or 
stained  on  their  surfaces.  The  winding  river  is 
hemmed  in  by  great  walls  of  rock  running  to  a 
dizzy  height.  The  scene  here  at  nightfall  was 
mysterious,  weird,  tenanted  only  by  the  winds 
that  sighed  and  moaned  down  through  its  bot- 
toms and  up  through  the  crags. 

After  crossing  the  Divide  we  descended  to 
some  five  or  six  thousand  feet  above  sea  level  and 
made  our  first  permanent  camp  in  a  great,  wild, 
unnamed  gorge.  The  huge,  silent  hills,  sheer 
walls  of  rocks  and  giant,  solid  pines,  made  one 
ever  mindful  of  these  fastnesses,  and  that  we  had 
at  last  entered  the  confines  of  the  grizzlies'  own 
domains.  There  is  a  vastness  in  his  size  and 
strength  that  makes  him  a  fit  inhabitant  for  these 
regions. 

Upon  the  ensuing  morning  Hi  and  myself 
w^ere  away  in  an  early  start,  leaving  Manuel  and 
the  hounds  in  camp.  We  proposed  to  start  out 
on  foot  this  morning,  quietly  survey  the  sur- 
rounding country,  look  for  bear  signs,  and,  as  is 
the  custom  the  first  day,  bring  in  a  little  meat  for 
camp  if  possible.  It  was  my  intention  to  try  to 
locate  where  some  bears  were  in  the  habit  of  feed- 
ing, or  some  point  they  would  pass  on  their  way 


A   bit   ot   rough  country. 

(Manuel,  our  mozo,  on  top    of  rock.) 


WITH    A    MORMON    GUIDE     225 

and  then  to  watch  at  a  distance  with  glasses  and 
try  to  stalk  them.  If  this  failed,  we  would  try 
the  hounds,  although  in  my  former  hunts  I  have 
never  been  able  to  hold  up  a  grizzly  with  hounds 
long  enough  to  get  a  shot,  but  this  way  does 
however,  sometimes  prove  successful. 

There  was  a  chill  in  the  morning  air  as  we 
climbed  the  first  ridge.  I  was  full  of  energy  and 
curiosity,  and  one  needs  a  goodly  supply,  espe- 
cially of  the  latter,  in  tramping  this  rugged  coun- 
try. We  w^ere  now  silently  following  along  a 
little  game  trail  bordering  a  box  canon  when  Hi 
suddenly  stopped  and  pointed  down  at  some 
fresh  tracks: 

"Wolves!"  he  exclaimed.  I  nodded  my  head, 
quite  agreeing  with  him,  and  we  quietly  pursued 
our  way.  This  was  the  last  word  spoken,  and 
we  had  tramped  several  miles,  winding  our  way 
in  and  out  through  the  mountains  before  we  felt 
disposed  to  be  so  incautious  as  to  engage  in  fur- 
ther conversation.  We  came  out  on  a  high  point 
and  surveyed  the  surroundings  with  the  glasses. 

"Something  moving  up  on  that  side  hill,"  said 
Hi. 

"Anything  that  looks  like  a  bear?"  I  queried. 

"No,  too  small, — looks  like  a  wolf, — yes,  by 
George,  and  there  are  two  of  them!" 


226  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

I  now  took  the  glasses  and  soon  located  them. 
They  were  traveling  along  with  that  easy  stride 
pecuhar  to  the  wolf.  Occasionally  they  stopped 
and  pointed  their  muzzles  skyward,  testing  the  air 
currents,  no  doubt,  for  some  passing  odor.  With- 
out any  apparent  effort,  they  seemed  to  cover 
ground  remarkably  fast  and  soon  passed  on  out 
of  view.  They  looked  serious  and  on  business 
bent.  We  continued  on  some  few  miles,  the  day 
commenced  to  wane,  and  we  must  turn  toward 
camp  to  arrive  before  dark.  We  felt  disap- 
pointed to  return  empty-handed,  and  what  little 
bear  sign  we  saw  was  old.  Luck  took  a  little  turn, 
however,  when  we  were  a  couple  of  miles  from 
camp.  I  caught  sight  of  a  fair  buck  feeding  out 
on  a  ridge  some  distance  above  me.  After  mak- 
ing a  careful  circle  and  climbing  a  little  above 
him,  I  stopped  behind  some  thick  cover,  when  he 
walked  out  to  the  very  edge  of  the  cliff  in  plain 
view.  A  prett}'  picture,  and  well  worth  the  stalk. 
The  shot  was  an  easy  one,  but  at  least  well  earned. 
I  pulled  down  for  his  shoulder  and  pressed  the 
trigger,  when,  lo,  with  one  jump  he  completely 
disappeared !  It  was  about  fifty  steps  to  the  edge 
of  the  cliff  and  I  lost  no  time  in  covering  the  dis- 
tance. Upon  looking  over  I  could  see  the  buck 
still  rolling  down  into  the  canon  and  when  he 


WITH   A   MORMON    GUIDE     227 

finally  stopped  I  realized  that  the  climb  down  and 
back  again  was  going  to  be  no  easy  task.  Taking 
a  little  shorter  route,  but  decidedly  a  steeper  one 
than  I  had  ascended  by,  it  was  not  long  before  I 
reached  my  first  little  prize  of  the  mountains. 

A  short  distance  from  where  the  deer  lay  I 
noticed  the  ground  bore  evidence  of  a  violent 
struggle.  That  one  of  the  nightly  tragedies  of 
the  wdlderness  had  been  enacted  here  was  quite 
evident,  and  upon  close  examination  I  found 
the  carcass  of  a  large  buck  which  had  been  just 
recently  slain.  That  the  victim  had  struggled 
desperately  the  torn-up  ground  and  strewn  hair 
plainly  showed.  The  slayer  had  covered  its  vic- 
tim carefully  with  dead  grass  and  brush.  This 
signified  to  us  that  it  was  the  work  of  none  other 
than  the  death-dealing  cougar,  who  at  that  mo- 
ment no  doubt  was  lying  up  near  by  in  some 
well-chosen  retreat,  waiting  only  to  steal  forth 
again  under  the  cover  of  night  to  further  satisfy 
his  inexorable  greed  upon  his  recent  victim. 

"We'll  be  down  here  at  the  crack  of  dawn  to- 
morrow with  the  hound  pack,"  said  Hi,  "and  that 
fellow's  scalp  will  be  hanging  up  in  camp  to-mor- 
row night." 

We  cleaned  and  swung  my  buck  to  a  tree,  in- 
tending to  pack  him  in  after  the  run  on  the 


228  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

morrow.  It  was  dark  when  we  reached  camp  and 
we  were  quite  tired  and  hungry,  so  we  did  not 
linger  long  around  the  camp  fire  that  evening. 
Before  retiring  we  succeeded  in  making  our 
mozo  understand  he  must  make  the  fire  very 
early  in  the  morning,  in  fact,  somewhere  around 
the  middle  of  the  night.  After  rolling  five  or  six 
cigarettes  he  finally  exclaimed  "Bueno!"  (good), 
and  after  a  few  more  cigarettes  he  remarked 
"Muy  BuenoT  (very  good) .  Whenever  he  ven- 
tured the  latter  we  knew  there  was  going  to  be  no 
douht  about  the  matter  in  point. 

At  that  stark  hour  when  night  pales  to  day  we 
filed  on  down  the  trail  like  grim  specters  of  the 
night.  We  rode  our  best  mounts  with  the  pack 
following  at  heel.  As  we  drew  up  to  the  scene 
of  the  previous  evening  Hi  started  Jack  ofi*  on 
a  trail,  and  as  he  topped  the  ridge  his  long,  deep- 
chested  baying  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the 
canon.  The  rest  of  the  pack  backing  him  up 
were  now  in  on  the  chase  and  the  hunt  was  on! 
We  dug  in  our  spurs  and  took  the  ridge  on  the 
run,  zig-zagged  down  the  opposite  side,  then  up  a 
long  swale  that  led  up  and  out  of  the  canon.  It 
was  a  long,  rough,  up-grade  run,  and  we  knew 
now  that  the  pack  had  jumped  the  cougar  in  the 
swale  and  were  hot  on  his  trail.    We  swung  out 


WITH   A   MORMON    GUIDE     231 

on  a  game  trail,  made  one  more  ascent,  then 
dropped  from  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  and  fairly 
flew  across  a  smooth,  grassy  mesa,  still  running 
hard,  as  we  knew  such  a  hot  chase  could  not  last 
long,  our  horses  straining  every  effort.  Then, 
simultaneously,  we  lay  back  with  all  there  was  in 
us  on  our  reins,  throwing  our  horses  back  on  their 
haunches,  for  we  had  unwittingly  ridden  to  the 
very  edge  of  a  sickening  drop.  Some  two  hun- 
dred feet  of  sheer  rock  ledge  fell  away  almost  at 
our  very  feet.  We  slid  from  our  mounts,  and 
pulled  off  our  spurs  to  climb  down  by  some  means 
or  another,  for  there  was  unmistakably  something 
doing  down  in  the  ravine. 

"All  we  have  to  do  is  to  get  down  there  and 
that  lion  is  ours,"  said  Hi;  "the  hounds  have  got 
him  on  a  perch  near  by,"  he  added.  It  is  needless 
to  say  we  reached  the  bottom  but  not  without 
scraping  off  a  little  hide  and  adding  a  few  more 
rips  to  our  jeans.  The  creek  bottom  was  rocky 
and  hard  to  travel,  even  on  foot,  but  with  gun  and 
camera  we  hurried  along  with  all  possible  speed, 
until  we  rounded  a  point  which  brought  us 
abruptly  upon  the  dogs  looking  up  and  barking 
at  bay.  There,  at  the  end  of  a  twenty- foot  cleft 
of  rock  ledge,  crouched  the  cougar,  with  bared 
teeth  and  savage  mien,  lashing  his  tail,  snarling 


232  BIG    GAJVIE    FIELDS 

and  glaring  wickedly  at  the  dogs.  My  position 
was  such  that  it  made  it  difficult  to  shoot  low 
enough  to  make  a  vital  shot  for  fear  of  deflecting 
the  bullet  against  the  rock.  I  drew  up  my  rifle, 
however,  and  sighted  quickly  as  best  I  could,  not 
wishing  to  give  him  an  opportunity  for  another 
run.  The  shot  taking  effect  too  high,  the  cougar 
either  leaped  or  was  knocked  by  force  of  the  bul- 
let to  the  opposite  side.  Upon  running  up  to  a 
point  where  I  could  see,  I  found  he  had  taken 
up  his  position  on  the  slope  to  fight  for  his  life, 
though  wounded  and  at  bay.  Having  long  made 
myself  familiar  with  the  characteristics  of  the 
cougar,  I  knew  that  he  would  be  unlikely  at  a 
time  like  this  to  make  an  attack,  though  they  will 
threaten  and  do  all  in  their  power  to  intimidate. 
As  I  approached  with  the  kodak  he  posed  beauti- 
f ulh^  baring  his  cruel  fangs  and  growling  in  a 
coarse  undertone.  His  eyes,  like  two  disks  of 
pure  gold,  glared  in  the  manner  symbolic  all  the 
world  over  of  uncompromising  animalism.  He 
seemed  to  object  as  seriously  to  having  his  picture 
taken  as  some  Apache  Indians  I  snapped  about  a 
year  ago.  Hi  handed  over  my  .30-40,  and  with 
a  better-directed  shot  I  ended  the  career  of  at 
least  one  deer-slayer. 

He  was  evidently  in  the  prime  of  life,  sleek, 


As    I    approached    with    the    kodak    he    posed  beautifully,   baring 
his  cruel  fangs  and  growling  in  a  coarse  undertone. 


The    cougar    was     a    male     in    prime    condition,    and    measured 
seven     feet    five     inches. 


WITH    A   MORMON    GUIDE     235 

vigorous  and  in  splendid  condition.  I  found  him 
to  contan  much  more  fat  than  any  I  had  previ- 
ously killed.  Before  removing  the  pelt  we  made 
two  or  three  pictures,  and  put  the  tape  on  him. 
He  took  seven  feet  five  inches  of  it,  and  although 
I  have  taken  them  measuring  a  few  inches  longer, 
I  believe  this  fellow,  on  account  of  his  unusually 
short  tail,  had  easily  the  largest  body.  As  for 
weight,  I  had  no  means  of  weighing  him,  and 
guesses  at  weight  are  seldom  worth  recording. 

Then  we  rode  over  to  the  canon,  where  we  had 
taken  up  the  trail,  and  packed  in  my  buck  of  the 
day  before. 

Around  the  campfire  that  night  we  spent  a 
jolly  evening  discussing  the  adventures  of  the 
day.  Hi  proposed  that  we  visit  the  carcass  again 
the  next  morning  with  the  pack  to  see  if  any 
other  night  wanderer  had  been  attracted  by  the 
odor  of  venison.  At  an  early  hour,  on  different 
mounts,  found  us  zigzagging  down  into  the 
canon  until  we  reached  the  dismal  spot.  Rather 
to  our  surprise,  the  hounds  took  up  a  trail  again 
and  were  immediately  off,  leading  us  exactly  over 
the  ground  we  had  gone  the  day  before,  but  on 
reaching  the  mesa  we  heard  them  barking  treed. 
Upon  riding  up  we  found  an  old  bob-cat  perched 
up  in  the  limb  of  an  oak.    After  snapping  one  or 


236  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

two  pictures  of  him  I  tried  to  rope  him,  and  after 
one  or  two  unsuccessful  throws  only  succeeded 
in  driving  him  farther  up  the  tree.  "Better 
shoot  the  critter,"  sliouted  Hi,  "or  he  may  jump 
out  and  give  us  another  run."  So  with  a  hard- 
nosed  bullet,  in  order  not  to  tear  his  hide,  I 
dropped  the  "little  critter,"  as  Hi  called  him,  to 
the  ground. 

In  the  afternoon  we  lounged  around  camp, 
preparing  the  hides  and  making  plans  for  the 
next  day.  We  had  finished  an  early  supper  and 
were  sitting  about  the  camp  fire  smoking.  The 
flame  of  the  setting  sun  smoldered  and  went  out, 
the  shadows  ^^ere  rapidly  deepening  through  the 
gorge,  when  soon  a  great  dark  water-laden  cloud 
swung  low  down  in  the  heavens  and  drifted 
through  the  gorge,  coming  in  contact  with  a  chill 
stream  of  air  which  condensed  it.  Then  there 
came  a  great  deluge  of  rain,  accompanied  by  a 
blinding  display  of  electricity.  The  hghtning 
hissed  and  crashed  among  the  tops  of  the  giant 
pines,  shivering  and  splintering  their  boughs. 
The  thunderbolts  boomed  and  roared  through  the 
gorge  and  rumbled  up  and  down  as  if  grumbling 
some  grievance  against  the  world.  Terrific 
blasts  of  wind  swept  down  with  the  rain.  It  was 
a  terrible  storm  of  the  mountains.    For  four  days 


A   treed   bobcat,  intently  watching  the  hounds  below. 


WITH    A   MORMON    GUIDE     239 

and  nights  it  rained,  soaking  everything.  My 
blankets  were  wet;  so  were  the  provisions;  we 
could  scarcely  kindle  a  fire.  One  night  we  went 
supperless,  simply  discouraged  and  disheartened 
trying  to  fight  the  wet.  On  two  nights  we  made 
a  little  smudge  in  the  large  tent  to  fry  some 
meat  and  heat  some  coffee.  When  it  did  not  rain 
in  rhythmic  pitter-patter,  fierce  showers  swept, 
through,  which  were  worse.  The  streams  that 
were  dry  before  the  storm  were  now  running 
with  torrents  of  water. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  storm  broke,  the  sun 
came  out  warm  and  bright,  licking  up  the  wet. 
The  wild  folk  crept  from  their  shelters  and  were 
on  the  move  again;  even  the  birds  sang  joyfully. 
All  nature  smiled.  I  rode  three  miles  to  the  south, 
where  I  took  up  my  position  on  a  knoll  to  watch 
with  the  glasses  a  vast  expanse  of  high  hillslope 
opposite.  It  was  sparsely  timbered  and  offered 
an  excellent  opportunity  to  sight  any  animal  that 
might  feed  thereon  or  saunter  past.  For  three 
days  I  watched  patiently,  alone,  surrounded  by 
Nature  at  her  best. 

So  picturesque  and  enwrapping  was  the  scene 
stretched  about  me  that  the  hours  slipped  by  sur- 
prisingly fast.  A  little  brook  went  meandering 
through  the  gully  below,  ever  singing  a  lullaby 


240  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

on  its  way.  A  jay  pij)ed  up  and  flew  to  a  nearby 
tree,  pouring  forth  his  sweetest  notes  as  if  his 
httle  chest  could  not  contain  all  his  happiness. 
One  day  a  great  flock  of  parrots  flew  over,  wing- 
ing their  way  South,  the  sun  glistening  on  their 
brilliant  plumage  of  scarlet,  green,  and  gold.  A 
flock  of  Messena  partridge  came  trooping  by 
within  stone's  throw,  picking  up  seeds  and  feed- 
ing greedily,  while  all  the  time,  on  the  very  top  of 
a  stark,  bare-limbed  pine,  blinked  a  great  horned 
owl.  These  bright  pleasant  hours  were  not  of 
his  kind;  it  was  not  until  the  gathering  night 
that  he  unfolded  his  shadowy  wings  and  drifted 
abroad  in  search  of  meat.  For  he,  too,  belonged 
to  the  killers,  and  many  of  the  nightly  tragedies 
might  be  laid  at  his  door.  Perhaps  with  a  slash- 
ing winnow  he  would  drop  like  a  bolt  from  the 
sky  upon  some  squirrel  to  seize  him  in  his  crushing 
talons  and  make  off*.  And  so  the  play  of  nature 
was  so  absorbing  that  the  hours  slipped  by  until 
the  afternoon  of  the  third  day. 


X 

COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA 

Between  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon I  sighted  with  the  glasses  a  large  brown 
bear  about  halfway  up  the  slope.  He  was  under 
a  juniper  tree,  apparently  feeding  on  the  falling 
berries.  At  times  he  rose  up  on  his  haunches, 
pulling  the  berries  down  so  as  to  obtain  his  fav- 
orite finiit.  Marking  the  spot  carefully  and  the 
direction  of  the  wind,  I  pulled  off  my  coat  and 
sweater,  as  the  climb  was  a  long,  hard  one.  Then 
with  all  the  care  I  possessed  I  commenced  my 
stalk,  making  a  long  circle  so  as  to  steal  up  wind. 
I  moved  on  as  rapidly  as  necessary  caution  per- 
mitted. In  something  like  a  half  hour  I  found 
myself  approaching  the  tree  exactly  from  the 
same  direction  the  bear  had  come,  as  I  could 
plainly  see  his  tracks  and  was  practically  follow- 
ing in  his  footprints.  Now,  expecting  the  bear 
to  come  into  view  any  moment,  I  doubled  my  cau- 
tion and  hardly  dared  to  take  a  long  breath,  even 

taking  the  care  to  cock  my  rifle  some  hundred 

241 


242  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

yards  back  so  that  the  click  would  not  disturb  him. 
Peering  through  one  little  opening  after  another, 
the  moments  dragged  until  I  just  had  one  more 
small  bush  to  reach  before  I  intended  to 
straighten  up  from  a  stooping  position  which  I 
had  assumed,  when,  with  a  rattle  and  a  snap- 
bang,  I  straightened  up  in  a  hurry  with  gun 
to  shoulder.  A  big  stone  came  rolling  down 
the  slope  and  bounced  not  twenty  yards  in  front 
of  me.  There  was  no  bear.  With  his  keener 
senses  he  had  detected  me  a  few  seconds  too  soon 
and  was  making  oiF  at  a  merry  clip  up  the  hill, 
his  great  weight  loosening  a  large  rock,  which  had 
tumbled  down  and  greeted  me  with  a  thud.  He 
had  a  good  start  and  kept  well  out  of  view,  as  I 
could  not  catch  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  went. 
Pulling  out  the  old  pipe,  I  sat  down  to  have  a 
smoke,  for  I  had  not  realized  until  this  moment 
how  tired  I  was. 

When  I  climbed  back  to  where  I  had  been 
watching,  Hi  was  there  with  the  horses.  He 
greeted  me  with  "Well,  I  didn't  hear  you  shoot." 
Then  I  explained  to  him  how  it  all  happened. 

"I  can't  see  why  you  want  to  fool  away  your 
time  watching  for  that  old  bear  when  we  can 
take  the  hounds  up  and  settle  the  question  in  short 
order,"  he  remarked.    I  tried  to  explain  it  was  not 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  30N0RA    245 

so  much  what  I  got  as  how  I  got  it,  and  to  stalk 
your  game  when  possible  was  to  me  the  best  way 
of  them  all.  However,  I  decided  to  be  ready  with 
the  hounds  the  next  afternoon  should  the  bear 
put  in  another  appearance. 

The  following  morning  we  devoted  to  Red, 
one  of  our  best  hounds.  He  had  been  lame 
for  the  past  two  or  three  days,  and  we  discovered 
that  a  fractured  bone  in  one  leg  was  the  cause. 
After  cutting  splints  and  bandaging  it  well  we 
kept  him  in  camp,  and  in  about  ten  days  he  was 
well. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  rode  south  with  the 
remainder  of  the  pack,  and  took  up  our  position 
on  the  knoll  to  watch  the  hillslope  again.  It  was 
probably  but  little  past  3  p.  m.  when  I  located  a 
bear  near  the  top  of  the  ridge,  which  appeared 
to  be  the  same  bear  of  the  day  before. 

Up  the  hill  we  went,  leading  our  horses,  as  the 
grade  was  steep,  taking  a  roundabout  way  and 
holding  the  dogs  in  check,  so  that  we  might  ap- 
proach as  near  as  possible  before  jumping  our 
(juarry,  and  thereby  make  the  chase  a  short,  lively 
one.  It  was  evident  now  that  the  pack  had 
caught  the  bear  scent  that  had  been  wafted  our 
way  and  were  growing  more  eager  and  impatient 
each  moment  for  the  signal  that  would  permit 


246  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

them  to  give  vent  to  the  trait  that  is  naturally 
born  and  bred  in  every  hound. 

"Riders  up!"  ordered  Hi,  and  we  swung  on 
our  horses.  "Now  all  off  together — we  can  take 
it  on  the  run  here,"  said  he.    "Go  get  him,  boys." 

His  horse  reared  and  with  a  long  jump 
plunged  into  a  run.  Then  I  remembered  he  had 
sharpened  up  his  spur  points  the  day  before. 
Notwithstanding  our  even  start  the  pack  soon  had 
a  good  lead  over  us.  The  bear  was  up  and  go- 
ing, the  pack  close  up,  that  we  knew  by  Spot's 
short  barks,  as  he  seldom  gave  tongue  unless 
indulging  in  his  specialty,  which  was  snapping 
at  the  heels  of  any  fleeing  animal.  This,  as  we 
know,  most  bears  cannot  stand,  and  is  usually  the 
means  of  holding  them  up  long  enough  to  get 
in  the  shot.  The  bear  had  gained  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  and,  although  hampered  as  he  was,  con- 
tinued at  surprising  speed  along  the  top.  Here 
the  going  was  comparatively  good.  Mounting 
the  top  Hi  said:  "Let's  have  a  real  run  nowl"  so 
we  went  hard  at  it.  We  were  coming  up  a  little 
now  the  pack  swung  into  view,  and  soon  we 
caught  sight  of  the  bear,  some  seventy  yards 
ahead. 

"He's  going  to  take  down  that  little  draw  and 
go  off  the  other  side  of  the  hill,"  shouted  Hi. 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA     247 

"Bet  you  a  dollar  Mex.  you  can't  pull  up  your 
horse  and  stop  him  before  he  goes,"  he  added. 

"You're  on!"  I  said.  Laying  back  on  the  reins 
and  jerking  out  my  gun.  I  dropped  a  shot  his 
way  from  the  saddle,  but  he  went  on  and  down 
the  other  side.  "I  win,"  declared  Hi;  "you  hit 
him  all  right,  but  it  will  take  another  one  of  those 
to  get  him  down." 

We  tore  on  again  to  the  spot  where  he  had 
turned  down  and  found  a  little  crimson  trail. 

"It's  all  off,"  called  Hi.  "See  him  down  there? 
He's  stopped  now  to  fight  the  pack.  Get  your 
kodak,  make  a  little  circle,  and  come  up  behind 
that  big  rock  in  front  of  him,  and  you  will  get 
a  fine  picture." 

Climbing  down  on  foot,  then  up  again,  keep- 
ing the  boulder  in  front  of  me  so  that  I  could 
not  be  detected,  I  quietly  crawled  over  the  top 
and  practically  came  face  to  face  with  a  large 
brown  bear.  It  required  but  a  second  or  two  to 
snap  him,  as  we  both  stood  rather  surprised  some 
eight  feet  apart.  Laying  aside  my  "picture- 
machine"  (as  Hi  sometimes  termed  it) ,  I  grabbed 
up  the  rifle  and  took  a  hasty  shot  as  the  bear 
grunted  and  growled  and  champed  his  jaws.  His 
great  vitality  was  of  no  avail  against  such  an 
impact,  his  strength  soon  began  to  ebb  as  he  sank 


248  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

down  limp  and  lifeless.  After  the  usual  taking 
of  a  few  more  pictures  and  removing  the  pelt 
we  returned  to  camp,  to  spend  another  jovial 
evening  around  the  campfire.  I  might  add  at 
this  point,  strange  as  it  may  seem.  Hi  at  one  time 
traveled  with  a  minstrel  show,  and  to  sit  around 
a  roaring  good  fire  and  hear  Hi  tear  off,  as  it 
were,  a  few  of  his  coon  songs  after  a  supper  of 
venison  and  frijoles  is,  to  me  at  least,  a  very 
pleasant  evening. 

During  the  next  w^eek  we  hunted  every  day. 
I  was  particularly  interested  in  grizzlies,  but  up 
to  the  present  time  we  had  seen  only  one  track 
and  that  proved  to  be  an  old  one.  Sometimes 
we  went  out  on  foot  w^ithout  the  hounds,  some- 
times we  each  rode  an  unshod  mule,  as  they  climb 
well,  are  sure-footed,  and  travel  more  quietly 
than  a  horse.  The  last  few  days  we  tried  the 
pack  again,  but  no  success  crowned  our  efforts. 

"It's  getting  too  slow  for  us  around  here," 
said  Hi  one  day.  "Let's  pull  camp  and  hit  the 
trail  for  Black  Canon;  we  can  make  it  in  three 
days." 

Early  the  next  morning  we  packed  the  outfit 
and  were  soon  on  the  trail.  By  noon  we  had 
come  out  on  and  were  crossing  a  particularly 
pretty  mesa.    Hundreds  of  broad-headed,  short- 


The   end    of    the    chase. 


"Riders    up !"    ordered    Hi. 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA     251 

stemmed,  wide-branched  oaks,  which  had  probably 
witnessed  more  than  one  century,  flung  their 
gnarled  arms  over  a  carpet  of  most  luxuriant 
grass,  while  we  continued  on  to  yet  wilder  scenes 
of  sylvan  solitude.  Later,  upon  gaining  the  top 
of  a  summit  in  the  range,  we  reined  up  to  view 
the  landscape.  On  all  sides  rolled  away  the 
mighty  Sierras,  and,  looking  to  the  limit  of  the 
human  eye,  the  rugged  peaks  faded  away  until 
they  melted  into  the  horizon.  Far  beneath  us, 
winding  its  way  through  the  great  range,  sped 
the  murmuring  waters  of  the  Rio  Bonito  (pretty 
river).  The  beams  of  the  sinking  sun  shot  its 
rays  of  broken  and  discolored  light  upon  its 
limpid  waters,  turning  them  to  a  mass  of  quiver- 
ing and  shifting  colors  that  alternated  from 
bronze  to  copper  and  from  copper  to  silver  azure. 
The  surrounding  hills  glowed  with  a  warm,  deep 
violet  tint.  Away  in  the  distance  a  huge  mass  of 
rock  stood  out  to  view,  wrapped  in  a  veil  of  tender 
pink.  The  whole  scene  might  well  have  been  the 
fantastic  dream  of  some  imaginative  painter 
whose  ambition  had  soared  beyond  the  limits  of 
human  skill.  In  my  opinion  there  is  no  range 
in  the  world  that  presents  the  variety  of  rugged- 
ness  as  do  the  Sierra  JNIadres.  After  witnessing 
the  splendid  spectacle  we  resum.ed  our  way,  slow- 


252  BIG   GAIVIE    FIELDS 

ly  descending  until  we  finally  reached  and  made 
camp  on  the  banks  of  the  Bonito. 

In  the  morning  we  found  to  our  disappoint- 
ment that  the  late  storm  had  caused  the  river  to 
rise  to  such  an  extent  that  we  were  unable  to 
cross  with  the  outfit.  We  discovered,  however, 
that  the  water  was  rapidly  falling,  and  decided  to 
camp  there  a  few  days  until  we  were  able  to  make 
the  ford.  On  the  fourth  day,  after  finding  a 
more  favorable  place  to  cross,  and  the  water  hav- 
ing receded  several  inches,  we  successfully  made 
the  opposite  bank.  Two  days  more  on  the  trail 
and  we  pitched  permanent  camp  in  Black  Canon. 
It  may  be  described  as  being  hemmed  in  by  huge 
ridges  thickly  timbered  running  abruptly  down 
until  they  met  a  little  stream  that  went  racing 
through  its  depths.  There  were  the  dark,  deep, 
silent  pools  that  lurked  in  the  shade,  mysterious 
and  cold.  There  were  many  places  in  the  canon 
that  the  sun's  rays  never  visited,  causing  the  light 
to  be  ever  dim,  hence  its  name  Black  Canon.  We 
were  in  need  of  meat  again,  so  resolved  to  attend 
to  the  inner  man  first.  Hi  and  myself  went  out 
for  deer,  and  from  their  numerous  tracks  did  not 
expect  to  be  gone  long,  nor  were  we.  Riding 
up  a  little  gully  as  we  were.  Hi  stopped 
and  held  up  two  fingers,  meaning  two  deer.    Dis- 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA     253 

mounting  I  slipped  along  quietly  some  seventy 
yards,  when  I  jumped  two  spike-horns,  only  stop- 
ping to  look  back,  as  they  frequently  do,  out  of 
curiosity.  Crack !  went  the  rifle,  and  down  came 
one  spike-horn.  The  other  was,  to  use  the  local 
expression,  rolling  his  freight  up  a  side  hill. 
Again  the  rifle  and  he  rolled  it  down  grade. 
Now,  whether  this  was  purely  a  matter  of  luck 
or  good  shooting  was  of  no  great  moment  to  me 
then.  For  we  needed  two  deer,  and  we  had  them 
and  could  turn  our  attention  to  larger  if  not  more 
worthy  game. 

Mounted  one  day  on  jennets,  we  determined 
to  inspect  and  hunt  a  likely-looking  stretch  of 
country  to  the  south.  The  w^eatlier  had  turned 
very  cold  during  the  past  week,  and  at  this  al- 
titude, freezing  hard  every  night  as  it  did,  made 
fresh  tracks  difficult  to  discern.  The  day  had 
been  an  uneventful  one,  and  we  were  wending  our 
way  toward  camp,  evening  being  close  at  hand. 
Nearing  the  top  of  a  small  saddle,  we  suddenly 
stopped  without  word  or  sign,  for  our  eyes  had 
simultaneouslj'-  met  tlie  object  of  our  search.  I 
drew  my  rifle  from  the  scabbard,  pressed  back 
the  hammer,  but  for  a  moment  held  my  fire.  The 
unexpected  scene  that  lay  before  me  surpassed 
anything  I  had  ever  witnessed  in  all  my  experi- 


254,  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

ence  with  wild  life.  There  sloped  before  us  a 
pretty  grassy  glade  where  three  deer,  two  does 
and  a  fawn,  were  leisurely  feeding  along.  The 
grass,  growing  to  the  height  of  some  12  or  15 
inches  and  having  been  touched  by  the  recent 
frosts,  had  taken  on  a  red  brown  color.  Not 
twenty  feet  behind  the  nearest  doe,  and  scarcely 
discernible,  so  perfectly  did  its  color  harmonize 
with  the  frost-nipped  grass,  was  the  long,  lithe, 
tawny  form  of  a  cougar  in  the  very  act  of  stalk- 
ing its  prey  with  all  the  stealth  and  cunning 
known  to  its  genus.  So  light,  silent  and  cautious 
was  his  every  move  that  he  might  be  said  to  drift 
light  as  a  wisp  of  smoke  toward  his  prey  before 
making  the  death-dealing  spring.  Now  crouch- 
ing with  fierce  aspect,  fore  paws  extended,  head 
laid  between  them,  while  his  lithe  tail  oscillated 
at  its  extreme  tip  with  a  gentle  waving  motion, 
his  pale  gooseberry  eyes  glared  malevolently  upon 
his  unsuspecting  victim.  The  cougar  sprang, — 
but  it  was  not  the  well-directed,  accurate  spring 
that  cleaves  the  air  like  the  strike  of  a  monster 
snake,  hurling  him  to  the  shoulders  of  his  prey. 
It  was  a  leap  of  pain,  for  the  .30-40  had  struck 
home,  piercing  the  very  heart  itself,  and  he  fell 
to  the  ground  a  shapeless  heap.     So  fate  had 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA    257 

spared  the  life  of  one  and  taken  that  of  an- 
other.   The  cougar  of  Black  Canon  was  dead. 

This  lion,  though  a  few  inches  shorter  than  the 
one  I  had  killed  in  the  early  part  of  the  hunt, 
was  an  older  animal,  and  bore  several  scars  on  his 
flanks,  which,  no  doubt,  were  inflicted  during 
some  of  his  attacks  upon  animals  that  did  not 
succumb  any  too  readily. 

His  teeth  were  much  worn  down,  and  two  of 
the  large  carnivores  were  badly  broken.  The 
head  impressed  me  as  being  unusually  large,  and 
Hi,  referring  to  it  afterwards,  spoke  of  it  as  the 
"bull-headed  lion,"  which  expression  conveyed  a 
very  good  idea  of  its  conformation. 

The  next  few  days  nothing  of  interest  fell  to 
our  lot,  but  one  morning  we  rose  to  find  the  world 
dressed  in  white.  A  film  of  new-fallen  snow 
covered  the  ground  and  bowed  down  the  trees 
with  its  weight,  while  all  about  stretched  the  si- 
lence and  mystery  of  the  snow-filled  forests. 
This  gave  us  encouragement  for  tracking,  as  the 
wild  folk  would  write  plainly  their  ways  on  the 
snow,  but  it  was  a  bad  omen  for  bear,  as  they 
invariably  take  to  their  winter  dens  when  snow 
falls  here  in  December,  and  it  is  April  before 
they  emerge. 

The  next  two  or  three  days  we  were  busily  en- 


258  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

gaged  trying  to  take  advantage  of  the  snow 
while  it  lasted,  but  it  was  as  if  we  were  deserted; 
left  alone,  there  seemed  no  life  of  any  kind — at 
least  we  met  none.  A  gloom  settled  down  over 
the  canon.  We  looked  at  each  other  and  read 
what  passed  through  our  minds.  Somewhere 
away  over  yonder  there  is  a  little  village,  and 
around  the  fireplace  of  one  little  wooden  house 
are  bright,  eager  faces,  perhaps  calling  to  mind 
some  absent  one. 

One  night  I  awoke  and  sat  up  in  my  blankets. 
I  was  conscious  of  being  awakened  by  some 
strange  noise.  Pulling  on  my  boots,  I  stepped 
out  of  my  tent  into  the  night.  It  was  cold  and 
clear,  a  pale  moon  peeped  wanderingly  over  the 
ridge,  and  the  stars  glittered  and  glistened  down 
through  the  tall  avenues  of  pines.  A  solemn 
silence  prevailed  that  was  but  accentuated  by  the 
booming  of  the  stream  far  below.  Five  slow, 
languorous  minutes  dropped  by,  when,  clear  and 
distinct,  but  commencing  low,  cam.e  the  howl  of 
one  great  lone  wolf,  slowly  rising  with  his  deep- 
throated  voice  until  the  very  hills  seemed  to  shiver 
and  the  canon  echoed  all  through  with  the  roar 
when  it  slowly  dropped  into  a  long,  drawn-out 
wail  and  died  awaj^  The  death-like  stillness  that 
followed  the  howl  settled  ev^erywhere.    The  thin, 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA     261 

shimmering  gossamer  of  moonbeams  danced  and 
danced,  and  beckoned  and  beckoned.  Then  from 
the  opposite  direction,  bursting  as  it  were  the 
heavy  silence  of  the  place,  came  the  answer  of 
the  pack.  Scarcely  audible  at  first,  then  swelling 
as  another  and  still  another  voice  joined,  until 
four  deep-chested  monster  wolves  howled  in  uni- 
son until  they  reached  their  topmost  note,  then 
dropping  by  steps  until  it  became  an  unearthly 
moan  that  slowly  drifted  on  and  died  somewhere 
up  through  the  canon.  "Wonderful!"  I  mused, 
"and  worth  coming  a  long  way,  to  be  on  hand  at 
such  a  play  of  wild  life.  I  will  investigate  in  the 
morning  and  try  to  find  out  what  the  packs  are 
up  to,"  I  thought  as  I  slipped  back  into  my 
blankets. 

"Plear  anything  last  night?"  I  called  over  to 
Hi's  tent  in  the  morning. 

"We've  got  company  now,"  said  Hi,  "but 
that's  a  sorry  old  song  they  sing." 

"Let's  climb  the  ridge  and  see  if  we  can  tell 
which  waj^  they  went,  or  what  they  are  doing,"  I 
suggested. 

"The}^  might  be  ten  miles  from  here  by  this 
time,  and  then  again  they  mightn't,"  said  Hi. 
"There  is  one  thing  sure,"  he  continued,  "and  that 
is  if  they  travel  that  ridge  they  would  follow 


262  BIG   GAME   FIELDS 

the  trail  on  top,  and  in  that  case  we  could  come 
pretty  near  telling  how  many  there  are,  and  which 
way  they  are  headed." 

It  was  a  heart-breaking  climb,  but  after  break- 
fast we  started  up  the  ridge  on  foot.  We  had  no 
intention  of  taking  the  hounds,  but  when  we  were 
well  on  our  way  discovered  they  had  followed 
us,  so  rather  than  to  return  we  let  them  continue. 

"Big  doings!"  said  Hi  as  he  reached  the  trail. 
"See  here,  they  are  all  going  up,  four  of  them, 
and  right  here  they  are  all  coming  back  again, 
right  fresh  too;  been  done  since  sun-up — by 
George,  there's  five  going  back,  and  look  here, 
there's  one  old  fellow  packing  one  leg.  See,"  he 
continued,  "he's  traveling  on  three  legs.  I  won- 
der what  battle  he's  been  in  that  put  one  leg  out 
of  commission?" 

The  tracks  were  fresh  and  plain  even  to  an 
inexperienced  eye.  There  were  five  wolves, 
headed  south,  just  recently  passed  and  one  going 
on  three  legs.  This  much,  which  is  more  than  I 
had  expected  to  learn,  we  had  discovered  in  a 
comparatively  short  space  of  time.  Where  they 
would  go  or  how  far  off  they  were  at  that  moment 
no  one  could  tell. 

"Hello!"  exclaimed  Hi,  "those  darn  dogs  have 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA    265 

lit  out,  just  sneaked  off,  dam  'em,  and  I  never 
missed  them  until  now! 

"Never  have  turned  them  loose  on  a  wolf,"  he 
added,  "and  when  it  comes  to  five  I'm  not  quite 
sure  which  outfit  w^ould  chase  the  other." 

For  the  moment  there  was  nothing  to  do,  so 
we  sat  down  to  enjoy  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  when 
Hi  suddenly  caught  my  arm,  crying,  "Give  me 
your  glasses,  quick!"  As  long  as  I  have  known 
Hi  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  seen  him  show 
even  a  trace  of  excitement.  As  I  reached  for  the 
glasses  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "Listen!" 

From  'way  down  the  other  side  of  the  ridge  a 
faint  sound  every  now  and  then  came  up  our 
way. 

"Why,  they're  in  full  cry  after  them  there 
wolves,"  said  he  disconsolately.  "It's  about  even 
money  either  way  I  lose  my  string  of  dogs." 

The  sounds  floated  up  louder  and  clearer;  they 
were  coming  our  way,  headed  for  a  cut  in  the 
ridge  below. 

"Might  as  well  sit  here  as  anywheres;  there 
is  no  telling  which  way  they'll  turn,"  advised  Hi 
as  he  peered  through  the  glasses.  At  intervals 
now  we  could  hear  the  deep  baying  of  some  of 
the  hounds.  The  pack,  however,  were  not  giving 
tongue  as  freely  as  on  former  runs.     Why,  we 


266  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

did  not  know.  Though  nearing  what  seemed 
little  by  little,  they  had  not  yet  come  into  view, 
but  we  could  occasionally  recognize  the  voice  of 
some  of  the  hounds,  as  we  had  grown  to  know 
each  one  by  their  bark,  and  as  we  noted  this  one 
and  that  it  was  perhaps  with  just  a  little  touch 
of  sadness,  for  very  probably  the}^  were  running 
their  last  great  race,  for  they  knew  no  fear,  those 
dogs. 

"Here  come  the  wolves  across  the  opening, 
'way  below;  there's  only  four,"  Hi  exclaimed. 

"See  am^thing  of  the  hounds?"  I  asked. 

"No,  not  in  sight  yet.  By  George,  there's  Old 
Three  Legs, — he's  running  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  behind  the  wolf  pack.  Here  come  the  dogs 
now,  they  will  close  in  on  him  pretty  soon;  he 
needs  his  other  leg  bad  now!  Let's  get  down 
the  ridge  in  a  hurry."  We  now  both  started 
down  the  steep  side  as  fast  as  it  was  possible  for 
us  to  go.  We  had  nearly  reached  the  bottom 
when  a  great  clamor  arose,  and  we  knew  then  that 
the  fight  was  raging.  As  we  came  in  view  of  a 
highly  animated  scene  there  was  a  confusion  of 
dogs,  wolves,  barks,  growls  and  snarls. 

"Old  Jack  is  down!"  shouted  Hi;  "I  hope  he 
isn't  dead, — best  trailer  I  ever  owned."  The 
four  wolves  had  disappeared,  but  Old  Three  Legs 


o 
o 


COUGAR  HUNTING  IN  SONORA     269 

had  turned  at  bay  and  was  fighting  desperately 
his  last  battle,  for  the  odds  were  too  great  against 
him.  I  have  no  doubt  had  it  not  been  for  our 
timely  arrival  the  hound  pack  would  have  been 
no  more.  For  it  would  have  been  five  against 
five,  and  the  great  fangs  of  the  wolf  would  have 
been  more  than  a  match  for  the  hounds,  fearless 
though  they  were.  I  could  not  shoot  immediately, 
as  there  was  danger  of  hitting  the  dogs,  but  as 
soon  as  the  opportunity  afforded  I  hurled  a  bullet 
just  back  of  the  wolf's  shoulder,  and  Old  Three 
Legs  breathed  his  last. 

We  packed  our  outfit  and  for  six  days  traveled 
in  a  northeasterly  direction.  We  had  spent  fifty- 
five  evenings  around  the  campfire  and  fifty-five 
days  in  the  open.  It  was  the  last  day  on  the 
trail.  The  wind  was  singing  a  romping  song  to 
itself  among  the  tree-tops;  and  so  were  we,  for 
no  matter  how  strong  the  call  of  the  wild,  the  call 
of  our  OAvn  is  stronger, — and  we  were  homeward 
bound ! 


XI 
NORTHERN   GAME    TRAILS 

Paet  I — Hunting  the  Moose,  Sheep,  Goat 
AND  Black  Bear 

After  remaining  a  few  months  in  New  York, 
the  spirit  of  adventure  once  more  bubbled  within, 
combined  with  a  feeling  of  restlessness  and 
dreamy  thoughts.  I  was  living  in  some  distant 
land  where  tranquil  nature  reigns.  I  looked  out 
on  the  town  with  different  eyes.  The  granite 
walls  and  gray  mazes  of  the  city  faded,  and  in 
their  stead  rose  a  vast  mountain  wilderness, 
against  a  sky  of  enchanting  tender  tints.  It  was 
the  old  summons  to  the  unknown — the  beck  of 
the  wild. 

So  it  was  on  the  sixteenth  day  of  August  I 
stood  looking  still  dreamingly  into  the  blue  dis- 
tance, while  Vancouver  faded  across  the  pale  un- 
wrinkled  waters  which  lay  like  a  dream  at  the  foot 
of  the  hills.  All  its  activities  stilled  at  the  sum- 
mons of  peace,  while  the  shores  receded  into  the 

night. 

270 


From   time  to  time  tiie  i)ro\vler  would  stoji. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    273 

On  board  was  Judge  Ford  of  New  York.  He, 
too,  had  felt  the  lure  and  spell  of  the  open  places 
where  he  could  be  a  brother  of  the  trees  and  a 
kin  to  the  untrodden.  On  the  little  steamer  Prin- 
cess SopJiia  we  proceeded  to  Wrangell,  Alaska, 
which  occupied  about  three  and  a  half  days. 

The  course  lay  entirely  through  the  dangerous 
but  beautifully  picturesque  inner  passage.  Fiord 
after  fiord  came  into  view  in  the  ceaselessly 
changing  panorama,  ever  increasing  in  splendor. 
Gigantic  mountains  rising  up  sheer  out  of  the 
sea  loomed  against  the  sky  in  weird,  fantastic 
forms,  and  from  their  snowy  brows  looked  down, 
mute  and  solemn  as  if  listening  to  the  sobbing  of 
the  sea,  heaving  its  long  billows  against  their 
base  of  high-flung,  naked,  gap-tooth  rocks. 
Regiments  of  spruces  lined  their  sides  that  stood 
out  like  spear  points  against  the  sky.  Further 
on  one  glimpses,  through  the  inimitable  vistas  the 
spurning  torrent,  bearing  down  from  austere  and 
defiant  heights;  flashes  here  the  million-voiced 
cascade,  and  trickles  there  a  little  soft-trebled 
spring.  Cloud  fragments  drift  silently  over  the 
nearer  rose-tinted  mountains;  cascades,  snow 
peaks,  glaciers  and  overhanging  cliff's  made  the 
way  one  of  ever  changing  beauty.  Colors  un- 
told mingling  and  melting  and  blending  and 


274  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

waving  over  all  with  a  terrible  beauty  that 
knows  no  human  name. 

We  called  at  several  points  on  the  way  up  the 
coast.  At  Prince  Rupert  there  was  great  ex- 
citement. It  was  rumored  that  another  big  gold 
strike  had  been  made  in  the  Shushana  district, 
which  lies  between  the  White  and  Chittina  rivers 
and  northeast  of  Bonanza.  It  was  hinted  to  be 
something  even  richer  than  Klondike.  JNIany  of 
the  old-timers  were  going  up  "to  look  it  over,"  as 
they  said.  Dozens  of  big  husky  fellows  with 
bronze  complexions  and  packs  on  their  backs  filed 
on  board,  and  as  they  bid  their  friends  farewell 
the  oft-repeated  slogan  was  "Shushana  or  bust." 
I  have  an  idea  that  more  than  one  will  never  re- 
turn, for  the  northern  trails  and  trials  are  both 
long  and  wearisome,  while  the  relentless  arctic 
winter  deals  harshly  with  the  poorly  sheltered. 

At  Ketchikan  I  went  ashore  to  see  the  salmon 
ascending  one  of  the  greatest  salmon  rivers  on 
the  coast.  They  were  swarming  up  the  river  in 
almost  unbelievable  hordes.  I  took  a  number 
of  pictures  of  them  leaping  the  falls  in  the  hope 
of  obtaining  at  least  one  good  one.  It  was  at 
Ketchikan  we  received  the  shocking  news  that  the 
steamer  City  of  California,  belonging  to  the  Pa- 
cific Coast  Steamship  Company,  struck  on  an  un- 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    275 

charted  rock  on  the  morning  of  August  17th. 
The  steamer  was  off  Adniiralty  Island  when  the 
accident  occurred.  The  ship  commenced  to  settle 
immediately  and  disappeared  from  view  in  three 
minutes  after  striking  the  rock.  Of  170  passen- 
gers on  board  it  was  reported  that  not  more  than 
thirty  were  saved. 

Continuing  north  through  the  chain  of  precipi- 
tous islets  and  broken  promontories  which  fringed 
the  dangerous  coast,  there  was  always  something 
new  to  hold  our  attention.  In  the  broad  indolent 
green  swells  we  sometimes  saw  great  whales 
swimming  leisurely  through  the  bland,  untroubled 
sea,  patroling  the  upper  green,  searching  the 
transparent  deeps  below  for  schools  of  herring,  or 
basking  and  rolling  lazily  on  the  slope  of  the 
swells.  The  myriads  of  wild  fowl  were  interest- 
ing to  watch,  sometimes  streaming  through  the 
upper  air,  again  resting  peacefully  on  the  water's 
surface,  bobbing  up  and  down  like  hundreds  of 
little  corks.  Pearly  gulls,  evanescent  spirits  of 
the  winds,  circled  up  from  the  banks  with  inces- 
sant clamor  harsh  and  shrill,  overriding  even  the 
trampling  sea. 

At  length,  upon  rounding  a  long  rocky  point 
that  jutted  out  into  the  channel  like  an  extended 
finger,  Wrangell  Bay  came  into  view,  and  lay  all 


276  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

a-shimmer  in  the  soft  rays  of  the  westerning  sun. 
There  it  was,  all  silver  and  blue,  and  boundless; 
with  the  tiny  white  sails  of  fishing  boats  dancing 
over  it,  winking  and  flashing  like  bits  of  blown 
feathers.  Then  the  sun  reddened  and  crawled  to 
a  smoldering  setting,  while  its  gold  and  purple 
banners  hung  softly  over  the  bay,  whose  rippled 
surface  flushed  crimson,  and  the  naked  sand  bars 
flung  back  a  ruddy  glow.  The  shores  were 
washed  in  a  flood  of  purple  glory  that  climbed 
the  rugged  heights  and  lay  in  splendor  on  the 
lofty  snow-topped  peaks. 

The  town  of  Wrangell,  situated  on  Wrangell 
Island,  boasts  of  eight  hundred  inhabitants,  in- 
cluding the  Indian  population.  The  visitor's  eye 
is  at  once  caught  by  the  weird  carvings  of  the 
many  Totem  poles,  which  both  in  color  and  design 
display  striking  grotesque  ornaments.  It  is  a 
fishing  town  and  the  salmon  cannery  there  is  a 
very  profitable  one. 

Two  days  later,  on  board  the  little  gas  boat 
Winiford  we  left  Wrangell  for  the  long  struggle 
up  the  swift-flowing  Stikine  River.  Our  destina- 
tion was  Telegraph  Creek,  which  is  situated  160 
miles  up  the  Stikine  River,  and  is  the  ultimate 
outfitting  point.  Some  idea  of  the  swiftness  of 
the  current  may  be  had  from  the  fact  that  it  took 


Glacier  on  Stikine  River. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    279 

us  five  days  to  ascend  the  river  and  only  one  to 
return. 

Proceeding  up  the  river  one  sees  a  cyclorama 
of  such  ruggedly  wild  and  beautiful  mountain 
scenery  that  it  would  hold  in  awe  and  silent  ad- 
miration the  most  ardent  lover  of  nature.  At 
first  one  feels  lost  in  the  immensity  of  its  great 
silence.  Uprising  in  lavish  and  gigantic  display, 
each  crest  and  crag  hung  by  bridal  veils  of  the 
softest  milk-white,  show  clear  against  the  un- 
clouded blue.  On  the  flats  grow  the  gigantic 
cotton-wood  trees,  much  more  massive  than  I  had 
seen  in  other  countries,  while  on  the  slopes  almost 
invariably  stand  the  big  spruces  so  typical  of  the 
north.  Nearing  timber  line  the  trees  give  place 
to  a  luxuriant  growth  of  grass  that  supplies  the 
sheep  and  goats  of  that  country  with  an  abun- 
dance of  food.  Finally,  the  tops  are  capped  with 
the  eternal  snows. 

The  second  day  we  passed  through  Kloochman 
Canon.  Here  the  water  hurls  itself  through  this 
narrow  precipitous  pass  with  terrific  force,  and 
the  little  boat  sputtered  and  struggled  while  the 
exhaust  every  now  and  again  would  go  under 
water,  and  it  sounded  like  a  thing  alive,  smoth- 
ered, beaten,  but  still  fighting  for  life.  Then 
the  exhaust  coming  up,  it  seemed  to  renew  its 


280  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

efforts  and  inch  by  incli  we  crawled  up  through 
the  boiling,  hissing  waters. 

Passing  out  of  the  canon  the  character  of  the 
country  changes,  being  decidedly  more  open,  the 
cailon  marking  the  divide  from  the  Coast  Range 
of  mountains  to  the  beginning  of  the  Cassiars, — 
rolling  mountains  flanked  with  glaciers  terminat- 
ing in  ragged  gray  peaks,  while  the  more  level 
spaces  were  overgrown  with  poplar  and  higher  up 
lay  the  thick,  deep,  moss-covered  slopes. 

On  the  fifth  day  we  reached  the  dangerous 
Glenora  Rapids,  only  ten  miles  from  Telegraph 
Creek,  and  it  took  us  several  hours  to  essay  this 
most  difficult  stretch  of  the  river.  Here  it  was 
that  so  many  lives  were  lost  during  the  Klondike 
rush  and  many  a  cherished  hope  sank  in  its  seeth- 
ing waters. 

As  we  rounded  a  point  in  the  afternoon  the 
little  buildings  of  Telegraph  Creek  came  into 
view.  Our  landing  was  attended  by  all  of  the 
white  inhabitants — that  numbered  nearly  a  half 
dozen  in  all — most  of  the  numerous  Tal-tan  In- 
dians and  scores  of  big  powerful  looking  dogs, 
huskies,  Mackenzie  River  dogs,  ^lalamutes  and 
various  other  breeds — all  with  a  greater  or  less 
strain  of  the  wolf  in  them.  These  strange  dogs 
that  fiction  has  glorified  so  highly  held  a  peculiar 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    281 

attraction  for  me, — the  uncanny  creatures  that 
shelter  in  our  houses  and  share  our  bread,  yet  hve 
in  another  world,  a  dumb,  silent,  lonely  world 
shut  out  from  ours  by  impassable  barriers ;  draw- 
ing sleds  in  the  winter  and  picking  up  a  vagabond 
living  in  the  idle  summer,  by  hunting  rabbits  and 
raiding  cabins  from  the  back  doors.  They 
watched  us  disembark  with  hungry,  savage  eyes. 
Venture  among  them  at  night  with  the  slightest 
fear  and  they  will  snarl  and  snap  at  your  feet ;  but 
walk  on  your  way  without  concern,  or  carry  a 
stout  stick  with  a  dominant  air  and  they  slink  off 
giving  you  a  wide  berth,  watching  you  the  while 
from  the  corners  of  their  luminous  eyes. 

I  had  already  arranged  through  J.  Frank  Call- 
breath  for  my  complete  outfit,  which  consisted  of 
five  strong  pack  horses,  one  saddle  horse  and  two 
Indians  of  the  Tal-tan  tribe.  McClosky  (gen- 
erally known  as  Mac)  acted  as  guide,  and  I  have 
never  met  a  man,  Indian  or  white,  who  could 
equal  Mac  as  a  hunter.  He  is  chief  of  his  tribe 
and  in  the  winter  carries  the  mail  by  dog  team 
two  hundred  miles  out  to  Atlin.  His  stories  of 
the  winter  trails,  told  in  his  own  quaint  way 
around  the  campfires  at  night,  were  very  absorb- 
ing and  filled  me  with  the  thrill  of  the  North,  and 
the  great  white  silences.    His  brother  Pat  did  the 


282  BIG    GAJVIE    FIELDS 

cooking  and  he,  too,  was  well  up  in  his  art.  Pro- 
visions were  supplied  by  Hyland  &  Belfry;  com- 
plete outfitting  can  also  be  arranged  through 
them.  I  spent  two  or  three  days  in  Telegraph 
Creek  preparing  for  my  trip  into  the  mountains, 
as  I  did  not  want  to  reach  the  hunting  grounds 
until  the  game  law  was  oiF,  which  is  September 
1st. 

It  chanced  one  night  before  starting  on  my 
hunt,  I  sat  in  my  room  writing.  The  lamp  had 
burned  low  and  the  air  had  grown  chill.  I  looked 
at  my  watch;  the  hour  was  later  than  I  had 
thought.  It  was  close  to  midnight.  For  hours 
the  little  hamlet  had  been  slumbering,  no  sounds 
were  falling,  the  hush  of  the  night  was  complete. 

It  is  often  at  a  time  like  tliis  I  love  to  muse 
and  ponder,  out  in  the  star-shine,  alone  with  my 
pipe.  On  tliis  occasion  I  pulled  on  a  warm,  fur- 
lined  hunting  coat,  slipped  down  to  the  door  and 
out  into  the  starlit  night.  The  frosty  clear  air 
was  like  rare  old  wine.  Silently  the  darksome 
river  flowed  on  its  way  below.  The  opposite 
bank  rose  steep  and  bold  until  its  rocky,  cragged 
top  showed  clear  against  the  sky.  A  thin,  silvery 
Hght  grew  behind  the  shattered  spurs  until  a 
young  crescent  moon  sailed  up  revealing  her  mel- 
low light,  silvering  the  river. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    283 

Over  by  the  wood  pile  lay  several  huskies  in 
restless  slumber ;  every  now  and  again  they  would 
raise  their  heads  and  peer  at  me  through  the  pal- 
lid light,  uttering  a  low  growl,  while  their  eyes 
shone  like  fox-fire.  The  night  winds  whispered 
soft  and  low,  sighed,  then  dwindled  until  they 
were  no  more.  Again  the  great  silence  reigned 
over  all.  Then  from  far  up  the  river  the  loon's 
low  note  came  like  a  soul's  lost  cry  through  the 
stillness  of  the  night. 

How  long  I  sat  there  drinking  in  the  wild  scene 
in  wonderment  and  solitude  I  do  not  know,  for 
presently  a  strange  thing  occurred.  Out  of  the 
blue  throbbing  night  there  ebbed  a  faint  sound 
that  came  ululating  over  the  distant  hills  like 
a  voice  of  the  wind, — then  lost  itself  as 
softly  as  it  had  commenced.  Three  or 
four  huskies  trotted  swiftly  by  as  sound- 
less as  a  darting  shadow.  Down  by  the  lone- 
ly shore  I  saw  several  of  them  flitting  about 
like  witches  in  the  moonlight,  now  sitting  on  their 
tails  in  a  solemn  circle,  now  listening  intently  in 
the  vast  silence,  as  if  they  scented  or  perhaps 
just  felt  the  presence  of  some  unknown  force 
that  was  hidden  from  human  sense.  Something 
seemed  to  be  wrong  in  the  wild  to-night.  A  long 
interval  of  profound  silence  passed.    Then  sud- 


284.  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

denly  nearer  and  louder  this  time,  an  unearthly 
howl  came  rolling  down  the  mountains.  It  was 
the  long  wail  of  a  great  lone  wolf.  Then  the 
huskies,  which  are  but  wolves  of  yesterday,  raised 
their  muzzles  to  the  sky  and  howled  as  if  de- 
mented. 

From  the  sable  banks  just  across  the  river  came 
a  long  woo-ooo-wow-wow,  and  then  a  great  black 
wolf  leaped  to  the  very  top  of  a  spur  and  stood 
motionless  in  clear-cut  silhouette  against  the  crisp 
stars  and  young  moon.  Sitting  back  on  his 
haunches  and  pointing  his  jaws  to  the  moon  he 
rolled  out  on  the  night  air  what  seemed  a  long 
appealing  wail.  The  huskies  appeared  to  be 
held  by  some  impelling  force  from  which  they 
could  not  tear  themselves.  It  was  the  strong  and 
free,  calling  to  his  degenerate  captive  kinsmen  to 
be  wild.  One  leap,  and  the  shadows,  black  as  the 
great  wolf  himself,  took  him  into  their  arms — 
and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

The  huskies  whined,  trotted  hither  and  yon — 
then  melted  into  the  night.  Only  the  murmurings 
of  the  river  broke  the  stillness. 

At  last  everything  being  in  readiness,  we  fer- 
ried our  packs  and  swam  our  horses  across  the 
Stikine ;  then  packing  the  outfit,  toiled  slowly  up 
the  mountainside  and  back  into  the  mountains. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    287 

For  three  days  we  followed  the  old  Klondike  trail, 
where  so  many  succumbed  to  the  hardships  dur- 
ing the  gold  rush,  and,  so  story  says,  many  are 
the  bones  that  lay  bleaching  on  the  mountainside. 

The  fourth  day  we  turned  off  and  struck 
through  a  heavily  timbered  country.  Mac  went 
ahead  and  stolidly  cut  trail,  hour  after  hour,  so  as 
to  make  it  possible  for  the  train  to  go  through. 
We  were  going  into  a  country,  Mac  said,  that  had 
never  been  hunted  either  by  Indian  or  white  man, 
excepting  on  one  occasion,  when  he  was  there 
seven  years  ago,  and  as  he  put  it,  "Game  he  neb- 
ber  see  man  before,  he  no  fraid,  we  go  close." 
Then  he  had  a  pleasing  way  of  displaying  two 
splendid  rows  of  perfect  teeth.  "Plenty  game, 
plenty  game,"  he  would  say  smilingly.  "Pretty 
soon  you  feel  happy."  This  was  a  good  deal  for 
Mac  to  say,  for  he  seldom  talked  excepting  at 
night  around  the  campfire. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  we  made  camp, 
high  up  at  the  edge  of  timber  line. 

At  the  first  vague  signs  of  dawn  Pat  had  al- 
ways come  to  my  tent  and  called  me  for  break- 
fast, but  this  morning  it  was  different.  It  was 
time  to  be  up,  the  little  drab  light  creeping  in 
my  tent  said  so.  But  what  was  it  that  made  it 
seem  so  strange, — and  the  stillness  so  intense? 


288  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

With  a  little  shiver  running  down  my  back  I 
rolled  out  to  see.  Snow  flakes  were  whirling  in 
the  air  and  the  whole  world  lay  under  a  blanket 
of  unbroken  white,  while  it  was  fiendishly  cold. 
Mac  was  just  coming  over  to  borrow  the  binocu- 
lars and  he  explained  in  his  quaint  way:  "Big 
storm  up  here  above  timber,  move  camp  no  good ; 
mebbe  to-morrow  we  cross  high  mountains  and 
camp  good  sheep  country.  You  give  me  your 
glasses,  mebbe  I  see  beeg  fat  grizzly  bear." 

From  the  crest  of  the  hill  Mac  scanned  the 
country,  and  in  a  temporary  lull  in  the  storm, 
while  the  sun  tried  hard  to  show  its  wan  face  over 
the  billowing  mountains,  something  showed  big 
and  dark  far  below  in  the  straggling  timber. 
One  look  was  enough  for  Mac.  He  was  back  in 
less  than  three  minutes.  "Put  yo  shoe  on  quick. 
Take  yo  gun  and  plenty  cartridges ;  maybe  I  see 
beeg  grizzly  bear;  maybe  he  black;  we  find  out 
pretty  quick."  We  each  had  a  hasty  cup  of  cof- 
fee and  then  started  ofi*,  stepping  gingerly  along 
over  the  soft  white  carpet  of  snow.  The  wind 
was  so  that  it  required  our  making  almost  a 
complete  circle,  but  the  stalk  was  very  much 
facilitated  from  the  fact  that  we  were  above  the 
point  and  the  going,  with  the  exception  of  climb- 
ing a  few  small  ridges,  all  down  hill. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    289 

Whether  on  the  trail  hunting,  or  even  stalking, 
excepting  when  very  near  the  game,  Mac  trav- 
eled with  remarkable  swiftness,  and  it  taxed  me 
to  the  utmost  to  stay  with  him.  He,  too,  had  the 
eye  of  an  eagle,  no  less,  and  it  was  on  account  of 
these  traits  I  gave  him  the  title  of  "Old  High 
Speed"  and  "Old  Eagle  Eye,"  at  which,  when  I 
explained  their  relation,  Mac  smiled  his  famous 
broad  smile.  It  was  little  things  like  this,  denot- 
ing appreciation,  that  kept  him  always  keyed  up, 
keen,  yet  serious,  but  under  all  a  good-natured 
harmony. 

We  had  traveled  nearly  a  mile  and  were  just 
topping  a  little  crest  when  the  very  unexpected 
happened.  Mac  suddenly  dropped  to  one  knee. 
"Look,"  he  whispered,  "shoot  him;  shoot  him 
good,"  he  added.  About  two  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  in  front,  in  the  low-growing  firs,  a  magnifi- 
cent bull  moose,  with  handsome  wide  antlers  was 
swinging  up  the  mountain  with  long,  graceful 
stride.  The  old  mauser  split  the  quiet  air,  and 
rather  to  my  surprise  (for  it  all  happened  so  quick- 
ly) a  giant  moose  collapsed  and  rolled  down  the 
mountain  for  a  hundred  yards,  and  then  lodged 
at  the  edge  of  the  timber.  "You  knock  him  cold," 
said  Old  Eagle  Eye,  and  added,  "You  feel  warm 
now,  eh?"    Then  came  his  cheering  smile  again. 


290  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

Strange  how  the  kiUing  of  a  fine  trophy  ban- 
ishes hunger,  cold  and  weariness.  "Bear,  he  no 
hear  yo  shoot,  he  way  down  below,  we  go  right  on 
an'  get  him,"  continued  Mac.  Hurrying  on  down 
the  mountain  we  passed  by  the  fallen  moose.  I 
paused  only  long  enough  to  take  one  good  look 
at  him.  A  fine  head  and  fresh  meat,  almost  a 
little  too  easy  though,  I  was  saying  to  myself,  as 
I  hurried  on  after  Mac ;  for  I  had  already  learned 
that  if  I  did  not  keep  up,  it  would  seem  almost 
impossible  to  close  the  gap  between  us. 

This  is  my  lucky  day,  I  told  myself;  I  never 
felt  so  fine,  spite  of  the  icy  wind,  and  drifting 
bits  of  snow.  My  gun  felt  light  and  I  seemed  to 
be  moving  along  as  easily  as  the  indomitable  Mac 
himself.  I  even  had  a  premonition  that  I  was 
going  to  kill  one  of  the  finest  old  grizzlies  in  the 
country,  within  the  next  hour. 

As  we  were  coming  out  of  a  little  patch  of 
alders  Mac  spoke  in  his  sign  language,  advising 
me  to  remain  still  until  he  had  carefully  scanned 
the  country  below.  In  fact  it  was  always  his  cus- 
tom before  coming  out  into  an  opening  or  passing 
over  any  commanding  point,  to  carefully  survey 
every  scrap  of  country.  Mac  gave  me  the  sign 
to  come  on,  and  I  might  add  at  this  point  that  his 
system  of  signs  was  much  more  adequate  than 


The   two    Indians,    McClosky    on    right. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    293 

words.  After  learning  them  we  never  spoke 
while  hunting  or  stalking. 

At  a  trot  we  crossed  a  wide  bare  space  on  the 
mountainside,  then  dropped  down  into  the  green 
timber  (spruce).  Here  the  stalk  commenced  in 
dead  earnest.  It  was  a  delight  to  see  the  catlike 
manner  with  which  the  Indian  slipped  through 
the  woods,  with  the  very  craftiness  of  the  prowl- 
ing kindreds  themselves.  A  half  hour  went  by. 
Then  I  got  the  sign  to  freeze  ( which  really  would 
not  have  been  very  hard  to  do  in  that  low  tem- 
perature; in  fact  I  thought  my  ears  had  already 
obeyed  the  orders).  We  had  come  to  a  point 
where  a  little  scope  of  country  could  be  viewed. 
Then  I  glimpsed  Mac  showing  his  teeth, — in 
other  words  he  was  smiling,  and  by  that  I  knew 
the  game  was  in  sight  and  it  looked  good  to  him. 

To  come  to  where  he  was,  slow,  low,  and  noise- 
less, was  indicated  by  a  beckon  and  the  turning 
of  his  palm  to  me.  He  seemed  to  take  it  for 
granted  I  was  always  watching  him,  for  he  never 
even  looked  my  way.  There  he  was,  nosing  about 
on  a  sparsely  timbered  knoll  about  two  hundred 
yards  away,  not  a  grizzly  but  a  fine  old  robust 
black  bear.  There  was  not  enough  cover  to  con- 
tinue on  in  the  same  direction,  so  we  dropped 
back  in  the  thick  woods  again  and  made  another 


294  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

short  stalk.  I  was  just  wondering  if  we  had  not 
made  a  slight  miscalculation,  when  I  saw  ]Mac 
slowly  sink  to  the  ground  until  I  thought  he 
would  go  right  on  through  it.  Almost  uncon- 
sciously I  was  doing  the  very  same  thing.  Then 
came  the  best  sign  of  all, — to  proceed  a  little 
in  advance  of  him  and  shoot. 

As  I  crawled  through  the  snow,  I  put  my  right 
glove  in  Mac's  hand,  and  he  might  have  been 
stone  dead  for  all  the  movement  he  showed. 

Kneeling  up,  I  saw  the  great  black  glossy  coat 
of  the  bear  that  showed  in  marked  contrast 
against  the  snow.  He  was  looking  straight  at 
me,  his  little  furry  ears  cocked  forward,  not  thirty 
yards  away.  There  was  no  time  for  careful  aim- 
ing, for  here  the  cover  was  thick,  and  any  instant 
he  might  lose  himself  to  view.  "Shoot  him 
again,"  said  Mac  after  the  first  shot,  which  I 
thought  hit  him  fair.  But  the  bear  was  off  in 
the  thicket  before  I  could  sight  again.  Here  was 
a  chance  to  get  warm,  for  we  took  up  the  trail  on 
the  run,  and  by  the  dots  of  scarlet  on  the  snow 
we  did  not  expect  to  go  far.  The  bear  ran  diag- 
onally down  the  mountainside.  Just  as  he  was 
crossing  a  little  brook  I  got  a  fair  sight  of  him 
and  brought  him  down  at  150  yards,  with  a  shot 
in  the  shoulder. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    295 

He  proved  to  be  a  male,  and  his  teeth  being 
well  worn  down  showed  that  he  was  an  old  settler. 
He  was  in  good  fur  and  his  weight  I  would  guess 
to  be  over  250.  After  getting  him  up  on  the  bank 
I  took  the  customary  pictures,  but  the  light,  what 
there  was  of  it,  was  exceedingly  poor.  While  we 
were  busy  skinning  the  bear — or  rather  while 
Mac  was — for  to  tell  the  truth  I  was  enjoying  a 
pipe,  and  just  holding  on  to  one  leg  occasionally 
at  Mac's  suggestion — we  spied  a  little  black  ob- 
ject coming  down  the  mountain,  which  grew  and 
grew  until  it  finally  turned  out  to  be  Pat  the 
cook.  I  suppose  partly  out  of  curiosity  and 
partly  to  see  if  he  could  be  of  some  assistance,  he 
had  hunted  us  up. 

Pat  made  a  fire,  which  was  a  very  happy 
thought.  After  warming  up  a  bit,  and  the  skin- 
ning over,  we  started  Pat  back  to  camp  with  the 
pelt.  Then  came  that  heart-breaking  climb  back 
to  the  moose.  It  hardly  seemed  possible  we  could 
have  come  all  that  distance  in  so  short  a  time,  for 
the  going  back  seemed  to  be  everlasting.  The  sun 
had  struggled  out  and  was  clearing  up  the  snow 
on  the  lower  slopes.  This  made  the  climbing  the 
more  wet  and  slippery,  but  at  length  we  reached 
the  spot  where  the  moose  had  lodged.  He  showed 
twenty-three  points  and  a  fifty-inch  spread.    This 


296  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

with  a  black  bear,  all  before  breakfast,  seemed  to 
me  something  like  exceeding  the  speed  limit.  "I 
take  yo  knife  again — he  cut  putty  good,"  said 
Mac,  and  he  soon  had  the  head  and  a  good-sized 
piece  of  meat  ready  to  pack  in.  On  reaching 
camp  we  all  had  a  hearty  breakfast — or  perhaps 
I  might  say  lunch — for  it  was  then  noon.  After 
getting  dried  out,  and  talking  it  all  over,  Mac 
took  a  horse  and  packed  in  the  head. 

The  day  dawned  clear  and  cold.  Sunrise  found 
us  again  with  the  pack  train  headed  for  the  sheep 
country.  Slowly  we  climbed  the  bare  face  of  the 
mountain,  high  up  above  timber  line.  Ptarmigan 
cackled  and  flew  hither  and  yon.  Patches  of 
white  of  their  winter  dress  were  already  showing. 
Whistling  marmots  sounded  their  plaintive 
notes  in  every  direction.  A  fox  barked  and  went 
his  way  on  some  secret  errand  bent — beware  you 
giddy  ptarmigan!  A  hare  rose  up  and  limped 
over  a  crest.  All  the  furred  and  feathered  dwell- 
ers of  the  wild  were  busy — very  busy  indeed — 
putting  on  fat  and  thick  coats  for  the  coming 
winter. 

At  length  we  reached  the  top  of  the  divide. 
Turning  due  east,  the  train  straightened  out  and 
we  settled  down  for  a  long  day's  march  across 
the  high,  wind-swept,  desolate  moraine.    A  polar 


Mac  and  the  first   moose  of  the  trip. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    299 

wind  swooped  down  with  its  icy  breath  and  sang 
a  long  wild  song  all  its  own — down  through  the 
hungry  teeth  of  the  mountains,  that  chilled  both 
man  and  beast  to  the  bone.  To  the  west  great 
saw-toothed  peaks  thrust  aloft  their  white  jagged 
tops  where  the  sun  danced  in  radiant  colors  on 
their  snows.  To  the  south  loomed  an  enormous 
glacier  with  its  hundreds  of  feet  of  everlasting 
snow  and  ice  that  showed  in  delicate  shades  of 
greens  and  blues. 

Toward  afternoon  the  character  of  the  ground 
changed  to  a  soft  gravelly  substance  that  made 
the  going  very  hard  and  wearisome.  I  led  my 
saddle  horse  for  several  miles,  as  he  frequently 
sank  almost  to  his  knees,  while  the  pack  horses 
would  lie  down  every  now  and  again.  So  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  we  kept  them  up  and  going. 
The  nature  of  the  ground  was  finally  accounted 
for,  when  we  came  to  an  extinct  volcano  that 
stood  out  in  dark  contrast  against  the  snow  where 
the  wind  had  bared  its  sides,  and  showed  a  forma- 
tion with  strange  colors  of  deep  brown  and  ma- 
roon. Immense  rock-like  boulders  were  strewn 
about  as  if  by  giants'  play. 

Here  again  we  had  difficulty  in  getting  the 
train  across,  the  result  of  the  earth's  upheaval 
and  strange  tumble  of  rocks. 


300  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

Late  afternoon  saw  us  still  coming  east,  grim, 
tired  and  cold.  There  was  no  sound,  save  the 
mock  of  the  wind.  Nothing  moved,  nothing 
stirred — there  was  no  life  up  there.  How  bleak 
it  was — and  night  was  coming  on.  Since  early 
morning  the  only  indication  of  life  I  saw  was  the 
skull  of  an  old  ram.  When  I  asked  Mac  to  ac- 
count for  its  presence  he  replied,  "Plenty  beeg 
timber  wolf  he  kill  him,"  so  that  death,  if  not  life, 
visited  there. 

At  last,  in  the  fading  light  we  saw  a  vast  valley 
stretched  below.  First  came  the  high,  steep 
slopes  of  green  grass  amid  white  patches  of  snow 
— then  the  white  patches  disappeared  and  here 
and  there  a  few  stunted  clusters  of  fire  came  into 
view.  Far  below  the  deep  olive  green  giant 
spruces,  standing  in  motionless  array,  beckoned 
us  to  a  comfortable  camp.  But  best  of  all  a  silver 
stream  finding  its  source  amid  the  lofty  snow- 
clad  ramps,  gamboled  with  merry  chatter  adown 
their  sides,  so  that  man  and  beast  could  soon  slake 
their  thirst  that  had  been  gnawing  all  through 
the  long  day's  march.  How  good  the  crackle 
of  the  campfire  sounded  and  how  the  tongues  of 
flame  leaped  and  danced,  as  we  crowded  up  near 
to  drive  out  the  cold  of  the  savage  wind. 

Morning  arose.    It  was  one  of  those  drab  days 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    303 

when  the  whole  landscape  looked  forlorn  and 
empty.  The  sky  was  sullen  gray — no  sun — but  a 
wannish  glare,  I  had  fancied  it  would  be  clear. 
While  making  our  way  down  into  the  valley  the 
evening  before,  Mac  had  seen  five  large  rams 
feeding  high  up  in  a  little  grassy  pocket.  But  a 
careful  examination  of  the  surrounding  heights  in 
the  morning  failed  to  disclose  any  rams. 

After  a  little  deliberation  INIac  decided  we  had 
better  climb  the  towering  heights  (that  looked  al- 
most sheer  from  their  base,  where  we  were 
camped) ,  and  hunt  the  opposite  side  of  the  range. 
When  I  looked  up  at  those  rugged  heights  I  did 
not  see  how  it  was  possible  for  a  man,  either 
white  or  red,  to  scale  their  tops  and  live  to  come 
down  and  tell  of  it.  But  Mac  knew,  he  always 
knew — and  faith  goes  a  long  way. 

Taking  the  binoculars  JNIac  proceeded  to  climb. 
He  was  to  go  on  ahead,  and  with  his  more  ex- 
perienced eyes  and  by  the  aid  of  the  glasses,  he 
would  be  able  to  look  over  a  vast  amount  of 
territory.  Pat  and  myself  following  up  at  a 
much  slower  pace  were  to  wait  on  reaching  the 
top,  until  we  saw  Mac  appear  on  the  crest  of 
some  peak.  Here  he  would  give  us  a  signal 
which  way  to  proceed,  and  still  another  sign 
if  he  had  sighted  game. 


304  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

Like  a  little  cloud  shadow  Mac  wormed  up  the 
mountain  with  astonishing  swiftness;  then  he 
dwindled  to  a  mere  speck,  and  finally  disappeared 
altogether  from  our  view.  At  last  we  reached 
the  top  and  high  up  upon  a  crest  I  sat,  musing 
over  these  vast  untrodden  solitudes,  where  nature 
lays  a  finger  to  the  lips  of  all  care — mused  and 
drank  repose  from  the  cool  air.  How  strange 
and  still  and  tense  it  was,  there  in  the  quiet  up- 
per world. 

The  silence  was  soon  broken  by  Pat  saying 
"Yo  see  little  peak  obber  der?"  I  admitted  I 
could  see  at  least  that  much.  "Yo  see  something 
on  top?"  "Yes,"  I  replied,  "something  that  looks 
like  a  little  rock  about  a  foot  high."  "That  little 
rock  be  Mac.  Bymeby  he  talk  to  us."  Pat  raised 
both  arms  high  in  the  air — then  the  little  "rock" 
seemed  to  take  life,  and  there  was  a  slight  move- 
ment. "Mac  he  raise  right  hand,  once,  twice, 
three  time,"  said  Pat,  "he  tell  us  he  see  three  big 
rams.  Pretty  quick  he  talk  to  us  some  more." 
Then  there  was  another  slight  movement  on  the 
little  peak  which  I  could  not  quite  make  out. 
Then  Pat  added,  "He  say  we  go  quick,  run,  he 
meet  us  down  by  big  snow." 

In  something  like  a  half  hour,  by  fast  walking 
and  running   (for  it  was  all  slightly  down  hill 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    305 

now)  we  came  to  the  edge  of  a  blue  glacier,  and 
to  my  surprise  JNIac  was  already  there,  waiting, — 
he  must  have  run  down  the  entire  length  of  the 
mountain.  Crossing  the  glacier  we  left  Pat  be- 
hind, and  we  were  off  in  quest  of  Ovis  Stoneii. 
Then  commenced  a  severe  stalk  lasting  over  an 
hour  across  some  nasty  shale  rocks  and  loose 
gravel,  which  was  impossible  to  traverse  except- 
ing at  a  snail's  pace.  One  misstep  would  have 
meant  terrible  disaster  far  below  in  the  yawning 
depths. 

We  were  now  making  our  final  stalk  that 
should  bring  us  within  fair  range.  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  raise  my  head  and  take 
one  peep  at  them.  They  were  lying  down  on  the 
bare  mountainside  about  three  hundred  yards  off. 
While  I  looked  there  was  a  slight  rumbling  noise, 
then  as  if  by  a  silent  command,  they  rose  as  one 
and  stood  motionless.  It  was  a  rock  that  had 
loosened  at  the  top  and  rolled  down.  When  it 
had  passed  they  settled  down  again  in  their  same 
respective  positions.  The  rocks  were  sharp  and 
the  crawling  was  most  difficult;  but  if  we  could 
make  another  fifty  yards  I  felt  that  I  could  score. 

Now  ^lac  stopped,  they  were  up  again  walking 
slowly, — this  time  in  the  direction  of  a  little  patch 
of  sheep  grass.    Reaching  the  grass  they  care- 


306  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

fully  scanned  their  surroundings,  while  we  trans- 
formed ourselves  into  the  very  immobility  of  the 
stones  around.  Satisfying  themselves  there  was 
nothing  moving  on  all  that  great  mountainside, 
they  went  to  nibbling  the  sweet  grass  tops.  ]\Iac 
took  one  long  look  with  the  glasses,  then  held 
up  three  fingers  and  pointed  to  the  middle  finger. 
By  that  I  took  it  that  the  middle  ram  carried  the 
set  of  horns  he  wanted  me  to  have. 

Between  nibbles  the  sheep  would  raise  their 
heads,  scan  the  country  as  if  they  expected  to  see 
an  adversary.  They  seemed  conscious  of  some- 
thing unusual  and  commenced  to  walk  slowly  up 
the  mountain.  Carefully  I  raised  my  gun  and 
^lac  nodded  his  approval.  They  appeared  a  little 
over  two  hundred  yards  distant.  Luckily  they 
stopped  and  took  that  one  last  look  that  so  often 
proves  their  undoing.  I  was  taking  up  the  creep 
on  the  trigger ;  the  sight  looked  good.  The  mau- 
ser  spoke  out  and  a  fine  big  ram  rolled  down 
the  mountain,  lodging  in  a  tumble  of  rocks. 

The  tape  showed  a  16-inch  base  and  41 -inch 
curl — a  most  satisfactory  head.  All  measure- 
ments of  horns  as  is  generally  known,  will  show 
a  shrinkage  of  one-half  to  three-quarters  of  an 
inch  after  having  been  killed  a  few  weeks.  The 
official  base  measurement  in  Telegraph   Creek 


Stone's  slieep. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    309* 

some  weeks  later  showed  only  15l4>  but  it  is 
rather  rare  to  jfind  a  base  over  14)  of  the  Ovis 
Stoneii. 

While  we  were  removing  the  scalp  four  ewes 
circled  around  us,  showing  the  utmost  curiosity. 
At  times  they  would  stop  some  200  yards  off  and 
gaze  at  us  as  though  saying,  "You  look  mighty 
strange,  but  this  is  about  as  near  as  we  care  to 
come."  Then  getting  our  scent  they  scampered 
up  to  the  very  top.  How  strange  that  even 
though  an  animal  may  never  have  seen  a  human 
being,  the  dread  of  the  man-scent  seems  born  in 
them.  OiF  to  the  north  we  saw  several  goats 
feeding  on  a  lofty  patch  of  green  grass.  They 
looked  like  little  snowballs  that  had  come  to  life. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  camp,  but  Pat, 
who  had  returned  before  us,  had  a  roaring  good 
fire  going.  I  know  of  nothing  so  welcome,  after 
a  hard  day's  hunt,  as  the  old  campfire,  when  one 
is  tired,  cold  and  wet;  deep  down  in  your  heart 
there  is  a  calm,  clean  satisfaction  that  makes  one 
feel  quite  in  harmony  with  all  guileless  nature. 

The  dawn  wind  played  around  my  tent  in  fit- 
ful, panicky  little  gusts,  and  I  could  see  outside 
that  it  must  have  been  snowing  all  night,  for  it 
had  piled  deep.  In  fact  it  looked  as  if  we  were 
literally  sewed  up.    It  was  Sunday,  anyway,  and 


310  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

therefore  a  very  good  day  to  remain  about  camp. 
Attending  to  scalps,  cleaning  guns,  drying  out 
I  don't  know  how  many  pairs  of  socks,  taking 
the  .22  for  an  hour  in  the  afternoon  and  bring- 
ing a  half-dozen  fat  ptaraiigan  back  for  supper 
filled  in  the  day  very  nicely.  The  snow  changed 
to  sleet,  then  to  a  drenching  drizzle  that  lasted 
throughout  the  night  and  had  quite  cleared  off 
the  snow  down  in  the  timber  by  morning. 

Two  days  later,  with  the  train,  brought  us  to 
what  we  chose  to  call  Goat  Camp.  This  singular 
animal  which  makes  its  home  in  the  giant,  rocky 
peaks,  is  the  most  daring  of  all  mountain  climb- 
ers, fearless,  sure-footed,  and  delighting  in  scal- 
ing great  heights,  taking  perilous  leaps  across  the 
chasms.  His  coat  is  white,  soft  and  fluffy,  while 
its  color  has  the  effect  of  magnifying  his  size, 
which  is  usually  35  to  40  inches  at  the  shoulder. 
When  full  grown,  he  wiU  weigh  from  200  to  250 
pounds.  He  has  practically  no  enemies  save  man 
and  eagles.  When  danger  threatens  he  climbs 
up  or  down  the  steepest  precipices  he  can  find 
and  there  is  no  wild  creatiure  without  wings  that 
can  follow  him. 

Everything  spelled  goat  on  this  violet-tinted 
morning,  as  we  trod  along  a  faint  game  trail. 
Pinnacle  after  pinnacle,  through  the  thin  mist, 


White  mountain-goat. 


Preparing    to    move    camp. 


NORTHERN   GAME   TRAILS    313 

thrust  up  its  shattered  lance,  while  yonder  rose 
the  sun  with  boundless  majesty  that  melted  the 
azure  with  a  kindling  of  fluid  gold  and  set  the 
peaks  on  fire. 

A  fine  old  Billy  had  finished  an  early  breakfast 
and  lay  drowsing  on  the  lip  of  an  outcropping 
rock.  Perhaps  from  his  great  height  he  was  en- 
joying the  shifting  colors  on  the  crags  below  that 
were  bathed  in  a  flow  of  tender  rose  pinks,  and 
thin,  indescribable  reds,  and  pulsating  golds;  or 
perhaps  he  was  studying  two  mere  specks  in  the 
distance,  one  Indian  and  one  white  man.  Any- 
way, I  like  to  think  of  him,  alone  up  there,  with 
only  the  eagles  and  hawks  and  ptarmigan  for 
company,  and  how  he  calmly  surveyed  the  world 
below,  with  that  feeling  of  security  and  lordship. 

The  climb  was  too  long,  too  hard,  and  too  cir- 
cuitous to  lead  the  reader  over  all  the  toilsome 
stalk.  More  than  once  going  over  a  dangerous 
rock  slide  I  would  have  been  almost  willing  to 
have  called  it  off  and  let  that  Billy  continue  to 
be  lord  over  his  domain.  One  misstep  and  we 
would  not  have  a  whole  bone  left.  And  then 
there  were  the  rock  slides  that  kept  us  ever  glanc- 
ing upward,  for  if  one  should  be  caught  by  a 
slide  there  would  be  no  hope.  At  length  we  had 
gained  a  point  from  where  I  was  to  shoot,  and 


314  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

cautiously  peering  around  a  sharp  ledge — the 
outcropping  rock  was  empty  and  bare— the  goat 
had  fled — I  almost  smiled,  I  didn't  want  to  kill 
him  anyway,  I  told  myself.  But  Mac  had  a 
different  version  of  it.  He  assigned  me  to  this 
post,  to  remain  indefinitely  and  wide  awake. 
Then  he  lost  himself  among  the  crags  and  fis- 
sures, and  the  last  I  saw  of  him,  his  trail  was 
pointing  up  to  heaven  and  the  going  of  him  was 
amazing. 

There  was  an  unearthly,  painful  silence  up 
there;  the  minutes  dragged  slowly  by;  I  was 
wishing  for  something  to  happen — and  it  did, 
very  suddenly,  too.  A  great  rock  tore  and 
bounced  its  way  down  the  cliff.  Then  Mac  stood 
up  on  a  pinnacle  above,  gave  a  shout  and  pointed 
below.  In  magnificent  bounds  and  leaps  a  great 
white  goat  was  coming  down  the  rocky  peak  and 
just  as  he  topped  a  rock  in  front  I  fired.  He 
collapsed  and  continued  down  the  mountain,  but 
rolling  and  bouncing  now  and  not  of  his  own 
volition.  The  goat  hunt  was  over,  and  as  JMac 
stood  looking  down  a  broad  smile  swept  across  his 
face. 


XII 
NORTHERN   GAME   TRAILS 

Part  II — Hunting  Caribou  and  Grizzly 

Outside  it  was  raining,  and  the  swish  of  the 
wind  on  the  leaves  conspired  and  whispered  with 
the  rain.  Pat  called  me  for  breakfast  and  an- 
nounced that  we  would  move  camp  over  to  Bear 
Mountain  as  soon  as  it  cleared  a  little. 

It  is  a  matter  of  five  days  to  Bear  Mountain; 
there  were  no  trails  and  for  two  days  Mac  had  a 
hard  time  of  it,  continually  cutting  through  the 
down  timber  that,  lying  lengthwise  and  crosswise, 
barred  our  passage  on  every  hand.  The  third 
day  we  crossed  a  series  of  bogs  and  had  a  most 
difficult  time  with  the  train,  for  the  horses  were 
continually  sinking  to  their  depths  in  the  mud, 
and  we  were  compelled  to  remove  the  packs  to 
get  them  on  their  feet  again. 

Further  on  at  the  edge  of  a  wide  bog  we  came 
on  a  half-grown  bull  moose,  and  as  he  showed  no 
signs  of  fear  or  making  off  I  took  the  camera 

3^5 


316  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

and  walked  to  within  thirty  yards  of  him  and 
took  his  picture.  Suddenly  I  heard  Pat  and 
Mac  shout  "He  come  for  you!"  Sure  enough  he 
was  running  straight  for  me  and  I  made  post 
haste  for  the  nearest  tree.  He  stopped  quite  close 
and  stood  staring  at  me.  This  is  the  most  un- 
usual performance  of  a  moose  that  I  have  ever 
heard  of.  I  only  record  this  to  show  that  any- 
thing but  the  impossible  may  be  expected  of  a 
wild  animal,  and  perhaps  the  next  one,  even  with 
the  most  careful  stalking,  would  be  impossible  to 
get  within  range  of.  As  we  rode  on  he  still 
stood  staring  after  us. 

The  fourth  day  we  crossed  the  head  of  the 
Iskoot,  that  flows  into  the  Stikine  many  miles 
further  south.  This  crossing  the  Iskoot  may 
sound  very  simple,  but  the  river  at  this  point  is 
too  deep  to  ford  and  its  icy  waters  rush  on  with 
an  alarming  swiftness,  so  that  it  took  us  several 
hours  to  build  a  raft,  ferry  the  packs,  swim  the 
horses  and  repack  the  outfit. 

At  last  we  reached  the  Ashcroft  trail  and  as 
we  were  to  return  over  this  trail  we  made  a  cache 
of  100  pounds  of  provisions,  all  the  horns,  and 
in  fact  everything  we  could  possibly  do  without, 
so  as  to  reduce  the  weight  of  the  packs  and  make 
better  time. 


A  half-grown  bull  moose. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    319 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  picking  up,  with  the 
.22,  what  grouse  we  required  for  the  pot  along 
the  trail.  I  found  three  varieties — the  Franklin 
grouse,  the  Richardsons  and  Ruffed.  Of  the 
ptarmigan  I  got  two  varieties — ^the  Willow  and 
the  Rock;  but  of  course  they  were  almost  invari- 
ably found  above  timber  on  the  bare,  snowy 
slopes. 

For  several  days  Mac  and  I  hunted  Bear 
Mountain  and  the  surrounding  country  for 
America's  most  prized,  as  well  as  most  dangerous 
of  all  big  game  animals — the  grizzly.  In  the 
lower  country  his  signs  were  frequently  seen, 
where  he  had  reaped  a  harvest  when  the  berries 
were  at  their  best, — ^but  we  were  just  a  few  days 
too  late.  So  now  it  was  to  the  higher  bare  slopes 
we  turned  our  attention,  where  he  so  assiduously 
pursues  and  digs  out  the  whistling  marmot  of 
this  country  (locally  called  ground  hog).  We 
often  saw  his  big  unwieldy  track,  in  snow,  in 
sand,  in  the  mud,  and  also  his  recently  dug  holes, 
large  enough  to  admit  his  great  hulk,  where  he 
had  been  searching  out  some  luckless  ground  hog. 
But  never  once  did  we  glimpse  the  royal  quarry 
himself.  The  autumnal  days  were  slipping  by 
all  too  fast  and  the  mornings  grew  ever  more 
drear  and  chill.    The  Indians  were  getting  tired 


320  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

of  grouse  and  ptarmigan  and  said  unhesitatingly 
they  wanted  "big  meat." 

Up  on  the  mountains  the  storm  had  been  rag- 
ing all  day  and  the  hammering  gale  drove  the 
sleet  in  our  faces  that  cut  like  bits  of  steel.  On 
two  Indian  ponies  Mac  and  I  were  slowly  toiling 
up  the  crest  of  a  high  peak.  The  Indian  rode 
ahead  bare-back,  grave  and  stolid,  for  he  was  too 
proud  to  use  a  saddle  like  the  pale-face.  Slowly 
mounting  the  steep  slopes  Mac  would  sometimes 
stop,  shade  his  eyes  and  peer  below  through  the 
sea  of  driving  white  flakes.  What  a  wonderful 
picture  he  made  as  his  dim  outline  loomed  dark 
against  the  veiled  background.  He  wore  no  hat, 
but  in  its  stead  an  olive  green  bandana  tied  about 
his  thick  black  hair,  knotted  at  the  top  so  that  the 
ends  stood  up  and  looked  in  the  vague  light  like 
the  old-time  two-feather  headdress  of  his  fore- 
fathers. Every  move  and  pose  was  typical  of  his 
race. 

Near  the  top  under  the  lea  of  some  great  bare 
rocks  we  dismounted,  made  a  little  fire,  for  wood 
was  scarce  up  there,  and  partook  of  a  rather  late 
and  frugal  lunch.  The  frantic  gale  fairly 
screeched  over  our  heads  and  went  wailing  and 
moaning  on  its  way.  Then  finally  it  seemed  to 
have  done  its  worst  and  blown  itself  out.    There 


«KJ-.  ^.- 


o 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    323 

came  a  lull,  the  sky  brightened,  the  wind  lessened, 
then  it  ceased  snowing.  The  sun  came  out  bright 
and  clear,  driving  the  mist  out  of  the  valleys  and 
revealing  a  wonderful  landscape  below. 

Leaving  our  horses  we  decided  to  hunt  in  the 
vicinity  on  foot,  but  after  a  long  and  careful 
search  that  revealed  nothing  new,  we  turned  up- 
ward to  the  point  we  had  left. 

Far  below  in  an  unbroken  stretch  of  spruce 
forest  a  little  lonely  lake  looked  up,  smooth  as  a 
mirror,  and  spread  pink,  amber  and  gold  toward 
the  dappled  pink  and  orange  sky,  where  the  sun 
had  just  sunk  behind  the  peaks.  Thick  and 
straight  the  somber  spruces  pressed  up  the  sheer 
slopes  about  it,  their  tops  like  embattled  spear- 
points  against  the  colored  sky.  From  the  farther 
shore  a  long  gray  point  jutted  out  into  the  lake 
and  on  the  very  tip,  in  the  strange  shifting  light, 
a  magnificent  form  with  lofty  head  that  showed 
black  against  the  orange  glow,  stood  a  giant 
bull  moose,  motionless,  as  if  modeled  in  bronze. 
His  wide,  palmated  antlers  thrown  back  over  his 
shoulders,  his  muzzle  thrust  out  as  if  to  issue  a 
challenge  to  a  rival  bull. 

Something  moved  up  on  the  bare  face  of  the 
mountain;  then  grew  into  two  dots  that  showed 
black  against  the  snow — something  that  looked  at 


324  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

first  like  two  flies  crawling  down  the  mountain 
side.  Now  they  seemed  to  double  their  pace  as 
they  neared  the  first  straggling  patch  of  cover. 
Then  if  an  eagle  had  soared  overhead  he  would 
have  seen  one  Indian  with  an  ohve-green  head- 
dress and  one  very  cold  white  man  stealing  softly 
up-wind  like  the  fox  after  the  ptarmigan. 

Mac  was  quietly  and  soundlessly  slipping 
through  the  low  firs  and  I  followed  in  his  very 
footsteps.  A  long  wide  circle  and  we  were  work- 
ing our  way  up  through  the  big  spruces  that  line 
the  shore  of  the  lake.  There  was  no  sound  ex- 
cept now  and  then  the  inexpHcable  rustle  of  a 
dead  leaf,  or  an  elfish  gurgle  of  water  from 
somewhere  in  the  shadows  along  the  shore. 

There  were  still  a  hundred  yards  to  traverse 
before  the  long  gray  point  could  be  scanned,  and 
now  Mac,  with  the  very  craft  of  a  padded-foot, 
tufted-eared,  slash-clawed  lynx,  wormed  his  way 
toward  the  scene  of  expectancy.  What  had  hap- 
pened? There  stood  the  Indian  as  still  as  a  tree, 
one  hand  held  high,  and  for  seconds  he  might 
have  been  a  graven  image  for  all  he  moved.  Then 
he  made  a  strange  sign  that  I  could  not  quite 
understand,  but  which  seemed  to  indicate  there 
was  more  than  one  moose  ahead.  Then  the  sharp 
crack  of  a  twig  had  an  almost  electrifying  effect 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    327 

in  that  uncanny  stillness.  After  a  short  interval 
came  the  savage  gruntings,  as  of  some  large  ani- 
mal; more  breaking  of  brush,  a  strange  trampling 
sound,  a  snort,  and  then  the  sound  of  a  fearful 
impact  with  a  dull  thud. 

With  pounding  pulses  we  at  last  peered  over 
the  thin  gray  point  and  the  splendor  of  that 
scene  bit  deep  into  my  memory.  Two  giant  bulls 
had  met  in  mortal  combat  and  with  lowered  heads, 
brow  to  brow,  were  heaving  all  their  great  bulk, 
one  to  force  back  the  other,  and  victory  seemed 
to  hang  exactly  in  the  balance.  Now,  as  I  looked, 
a  little  stream  of  scarlet  was  spurting  from  the 
neck  of  the  somewhat  smaller  bull;  slowly  he 
seemed  to  be  weakening.  Then  I  was  suddenly 
startled  at  the  rather  unusual  sound  of  Mac's 
voice,  saying:  "Why  you  no  shoot?"  It  sud- 
denly dawned  on  me  that  I  had  simply  forgotten 
to  do  so.  Then  Mac  added,  "You  kill  him  beeg 
one — before  he  make  other  too  sick." 

At  the  report  of  the  rifle  a  cow  that  had  been 
idly  looking  on  from  the  opposite  shore,  trotted 
off  into  the  woods.  The  two  bulls  disengaged 
themselves  and  the  larger  stood  as  if  glued  to  the 
spot.  The  other  walked  unsteadily  to  the  water's 
edge,  paused  to  look  back,  then  sank  into  the  cold 
waters,  swam  to  the  other  side,  shook  his  coat 


328  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

free  of  the  icy  water  and  vanished  in  the  direction 
of  the  cow.  The  big  bull  required  another  shot 
and  then  all  his  battles  were  at  an  end.  His  ant- 
lers were  massive  and  heavy,  all  the  points  long — 
nineteen  in  number,  with  a  60-inch  spread. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  we  got  back  to 
tents,  tired,  cold  and  wolfishly  hungry,  but 
light-hearted  withal.  The  next  few  days  failed 
to  disclose  any  very  fresh  grizzly  signs.  We 
found  his  great  human-like  prints  high  up  in  the 
mountains,  and  where  he  had  "laid  up'*  under  a 
shelving  rock ;  but  we  could  not  seem  to  have  the 
luck  to  happen  upon  a  track  fresh  enough  to 
warrant  our  following  up  the  ponderous  maker. 
The  days  were  growing  short  and  there  was  that 
in  the  air  which  seemed  to  warn  all  things  to  pre- 
pare to  depart  before  the  iron  hand  of  winter 
closed  down  over  the  land. 

Something  must  be  done  if  I  was  to  keep  the 
pledge  I  had  made  to  myself, — not  to  return 
without  a  grizzly.  I  had  heard  of  a  distant  range 
where  the  lordly  Osborn's  caribou  roamed  and 
the  grizzly  prowled  undaunted  over  his  realm  with 
a  grim  joy  of  lordship,  and  its  wandering,  watch- 
ful inhabitants, — ^his  slaves — almost  all. 

"Let's  try  for  caribou,"  I  suggested  one  even- 
ing.   Mac  looked  serious  for  a  few  moments,  then 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    331 

finally  said:  "Caribou  Mountains  long  way  off 
— hundred  mile  norf;  mebbe  plenty  big  snow 
come ;  mebbe  we  make  it ;  you  tell  me  all  right  we 
go." 

Those  were  long  days  on  the  trail,  and  we  drove 
the  train  hard  for  several  days,  as  we  filed  along 
silently  through  the  great  untrodden  solitudes. 
Hour  after  hour  sped  by  and  excepting  for  the 
creaking  of  the  gear  and  an  occasional  "Come, 
Jack!"  "Get  in  there,  Blackie,"  as  Mac  urged  on 
the  horses,  we  moved  northward  in  stern  silence, 
rapidly  dropping  the  miles  behind,  now  skirting 
the  edge  of  a  huge  mountain  that  reared  itself 
like  a  great  gray  monster  against  the  sky — now 
passing  through  leagues  upon  leagues  of  burnt 
timber,  where  the  trees,  stricken  to  the  heart, 
stood  bare  and  cleft.  Again  down  the  rocky 
mountainside  where  the  boulders  were  heaped  and 
piled  together  in  a  rough  turbulence,  crossing  the 
little  rivulet  that  gurgled  and  chanted  its  way 
through  the  pine  forests,  dark  and  hoar,  while  the 
big  trees  wliispered  low  and  mild  and  waved  their 
long  arms  to  and  fro.  Out  of  the  forests  through 
a  long  stretch  of  low-growing  willows,  where  the 
snow-shoe  rabbits  frisked  and  played  in  the  wan 
gleam  of  the  wintery  sun.  Further  to  one  side 
over  some  craggy  cliffs,  a  great  eagle  wheeled  his 


332  BIG   GAIVIE    FIELDS 

spiral  way.  Into  the  deep  forests  again,  and 
through  the  trackless  reaches  of  sombrous  spruces 
that  stood  by  the  trail  Hke  phantoms  grim  and 
tall. 

So  it  was  on  the  seventh  day  I  had  my  first 
glimpse  of  Caribou  Mountain,  rising  bare  and 
cold  amid  the  purple  distance,  in  a  track  of  the 
setting  sun.  With  weary  limbs  we  moved  on  and 
upward,  into  the  flush  of  the  sunset,  until  at  last 
we  made  camp  in  a  small  patch  of  balsams,  just 
near  the  timber  limit. 

Caribou  Mountain  is  really  a  vast  flat  range, 
some  twenty-five  miles  in  extent,  by  perhaps 
twenty  miles  across.  Its  surroundings  are  high, 
snow-covered  peaks ;  with  the  exception  of  a  ht- 
tle  scrubby  willow  it  is  for  the  most  part  devoid 
of  vegetation.  Owing  to  the  continual  storms  of 
this  section  and  dampness  of  the  ground,  its  tops 
or  barrens  are  covered  with  a  thick  deep  moss, 
upon  which  the  Osborn  caribou  are  wont  to  feed. 
At  this  time  of  year  the  stags  are  splendid,  im- 
pressive looking  beasts,  with  massive  antlers  and 
their  long  white  manes  tossing  in  the  wind,  while 
there  is  a  glint  of  fire  in  their  eyes.  The  long- 
legged,  inquisitive  fawns  make  a  pretty  picture 
as  they  go  trotting  after  the  sleek  cows,  whose 


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NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    335 

heads  carry  small  pointed  horns,  more  deadly  by 
far  than  the  stags'  cumbersome  antlers. 

Over  the  bleak  partly  snow-covered  tract  I 
stood,  watching  the  slowly  dying  day,  and  all  the 
world  seemed  to  stand  by,  silent,  hushed,  awed, 
§s  if  waiting  for  the  end.  An  old  cock  ptarmigan 
buzzed  by,  straightened  and  stopped  his  wings, 
then  slid  on  a  long  slant  and  dropped  out  of  sight 
in  the  willows.  A  hare,  with  his  autumnal  coat 
nearly  matching  the  snow,  got  up  literally  out  of 
the  ground,  limped  into  space  and  passed.  Then, 
as  if  the  picture  were  not  sufficiently  arresting,  on 
the  very  top  of  a  snow-covered  crest  stood  a  mag- 
nificent old  bull  caribou  in  silhouette,  all  bur- 
nished in  silver,  against  a  silently  raging  furnace. 
Came  then  dusk  to  the  pomp  of  the  dying  day, 
and  the  sable  skirts  of  night  descended  softly  as 
a  drifting  feather. 

Outside  the  quivering  ring  of  campfire  light 
the  darkness  was  profound,  which  wavered,  ad- 
vanced and  receded.  The  blackness  was  so  hope- 
lessly impenetrable  I  wondered  if  a  storm  was 
rolling  up.  Soon  I  saw  little  pale  stars  timidly 
glimmering  through  the  vast  black  vault  above. 
Then  a  meek,  wan  moon  came  stealing  shyly  up 
over  the  bleak,  ghost-like  spurs  and  shed  a  milky, 
uncanny  light  through  a  large,  round  misty  halo. 


336  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

"Mebbe  he  snow  to-night,"  said  Mac  dryly,  as 
he  took  another  helping  of  rice:  then  added,  "I 
no  like  weather,  he  look  bad ;  if  snow  not  too  beeg 
to-morrow  we  hunt  beeg  bull  you  see  at  sunset. 

He   no   trabbel  to-night.      Unless "     Mac 

stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence. 
There  was  a  long  pause — the  fire  flickered  and 
seemed  to  shrink  into  the  very  earth ;  the  air  was 
tense  and  still.  Something  moved  between  us  and 
the  moon — something  shot  past  like  a  drifting 
cloud  shadow,  or  a  puff  of  smoke.  Or  did  I  just 
imagine  it?  Mac  was  as  still  as  a  stone.  His 
eyes  kindled;  surely  he  had  seen  it  too.  Two 
more,  and  then  five  vague  forms  swept  by  in  the 
strange  unreal  light,  with  that  unmistakable  glid- 
ing, slouching  trot  of  the  wolf.  I  had  counted 
eight,  almost  as  many  wolves  as  I  had  seen  alto- 
gether in  twenty  years  of  roaming  in  remote 
wilderness  lands. 

How  many  more  there  were  I  never  knew. 
Soon  what  apparently  was  the  leader  showed 
again  against  the  half  light  of  the  moon  on  the 
top  of  an  up-thrust  fang  of  rock  in  dim  out- 
line. Then  with  his  sensitive  muzzle  raised  to- 
ward the  sky,  sounded  the  hunt  cry  to  his  fellow 
kinsmen.  They  seemed  to  answer  from  the  top 
of  every  jutting  rock.    The  long  chorus  deepened 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    339 

and  swelled  into  a  roar  that  filled  all  the  night, 
then  waked  the  sleeping  echoes  and  set  them 
jumping  like  startled  goats  from  crag  to  crag. 
Every  chord  in  their  wild  hearts  seemed  to  thrill 
in  answer  to  the  leader's  summons. 

The  howling  ceased  abruptly  and  several  forms 
shot  by  like  a  ray  of  moonlight,  as  the  pack  of 
pale-eyed  ravaging  intruders  swept  on  its  way. 
Then  the  brooding  silence  again  shut  down  over 
all  that  great  land. 

"By  damn,"  said  Mac  at  last,  *'he  make  bad 
sign ;  leader  he  talk  to  wolf  pack  and  say  'we  all 
hunt  big  meat,'  and  the  wolf  pack  they  talk  to 
leader  and  tell  him  'all  right,  we  go.'  "  Mac 
seemed  to  think  that  this  would  spoil  our  chances 
for  that  big  bull  we  intended  to  hunt  in  the  morn- 
ing and  I  quite  agreed  with  him.  He  also  indi- 
cated in  his  quaint  way  that  the  wolves  had  gotten 
ahead  of  us  and  were  very  probably  on  the  cari- 
bou's trail  at  that  moment.  Once  more,  but  faint 
and  far  now,  came  the  quavering  pack  cry  across 
the  gray  white  reaches  of  that  desolate,  lonesome 
land.  Often  through  the  night  I  thought  I 
could  hear  their  unearthly  wail  in  the  distance; 
but  it  may  have  been  only  the  straying  of  the 
wind. 

In  the  morning  it  was  snowing  hard,  while  the 


340  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

hammering  gale  drove  in  the  cold  and  played 
weird  music  as  it  swooped  on  down  the  lonely 
mountainside.  On  two  horses  Mac  and  I  decided 
to  face  the  storm  and  hunt,  spite  of  it  all.  There 
was  really  very  little  use  in  venturing  out  while 
the  storm  continued,  for  it  was  impossible  to  see 
much  over  a  hundred  yards  through  the  whirling 
flakes,  while  the  footprints  of  the  wild  dwellers 
were  quickly  sealed  with  the  white  covering. 
jNIac,  however,  never  wanted  to  remain  about 
camp  when  it  was  possible  to  be  out  and  doing. 

Stolidly  we  skirted  the  mountain  above  timber 
line,  and  save  for  the  scuttling  away  of  a  few 
ptarmigan  now  and  again,  and  the  whining  of  the 
gale,  there  was  neither  sign  nor  sound  of  a  living 
thing.  Death  seemed  the  only  inhabitant  of  those 
limitless,  desolate  expanses.  No  less  awful  than 
the  weird  moaning  of  the  wind  was  the  unspeak- 
able stillness  that  shut  down  when  it  ceased.  It 
was  near  noon  when  we  stopped  in  the  shelter  of 
a  cluster  of  stunted  firs,  where  we  managed  to 
kindle  a  little  fire  and  eat  an  all  too  scanty  lunch- 
eon. The  wind  veered  round  to  the  west  and  the 
sky  grew  a  little  brighter,  but  still  fine  crystalline 
flakes  volleyed  through  the  air. 

Continuing  on  around  the  upper  edge  of  the 
mountain  we  came  on  to  a  number  of  unmistak- 


My  tent   in   the  high,  cold  caribou  country. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    343 

ably  fresh  caribou  tracks.  They  could  not  have 
been  much  more  than  a  few  minutes  old,  as  other- 
wise the  snow  would  have  soon  smoothed  them 
out.  Taking  up  the  trail  we  had  not  gone  more 
than  a  few  hundred  yards  when  Mac  signaled  we 
were  very  near  them  and  that  he  had  better  pro- 
ceed on  foot.  After  a  short  stalk  there  suddenly 
loomed  above  the  willows  what  looked  to  me  hke 
a  splendid  pair  of  antlers.  Then  I  made  out  sev- 
eral smaller  sets  of  horns  which  now  plainly  indi- 
cated that  a  large  band  of  caribou  were  lying 
down  and  just  the  tops  of  their  heads  were  visible. 
They  must  have  suspected  the  presence  of  some 
threatening  danger.  They  could  not  have  scented 
us  as  the  wind  was  strong  from  them  to  us. 

Suddenly  they  jumped  to  their  feet,  and  as 
they  did  so  I  trained  the  rifle  on  the  larger  bull. 
And  then  a  strange  thing  happened.  I  felt  a 
pressure  on  my  arm  which  threw  out  my  aim. 
The  band  were  off  now  in  long,  graceful  bounds. 
Again  I  drew  up  the  rifle  on  the  big  fellow  and 
again  the  pressure  with  a  remark  from  Mac,  say- 
ing, "You  no  kill  him,  we  get  heaper  bigger 
head."  Mac,  to  ixiake  sure  I  would  not  shoot, 
had  simply  pressed  my  arm  down.  This  made  me 
feel  rather  provoked  at  first  as  the  head  looked  to 
be  a  good  one,  but  very  probably  on  account  of 


344  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

the  peculiar  light,  the  antlers  appeared  larger 
than  they  really  were.  In  a  few  more  bounds  they 
vanished  amid  the  gray  mass  of  flakes.  It  had 
been  a  long,  hard  day  and  as  it  drew  to  a  close 
the  result  was  somewhat  disquieting  as  we  had 
failed  to  find  any  worthy  quarry. 

We  now  directed  our  course  toward  camp, 
while  our  hearts  grew  a  bit  lighter  as  the  storm 
abated  and  the  clouds  scattered,  showing  once 
more  the  clear  blue  sky.  By  the  time  we  reached 
camp  it  had  grown  intensely  cold,  there  was 
scarce  a  cloud  to  be  seen  and  we  were  treated  to 
another  of  those  glorious  mountain  sunsets. 
While  it  was  still  light,  Mac  took  his  usual  even- 
ing scan  about  with  the  glasses,  and  across  the 
valley  located  another  band  of  caribou. 

"I  see  beeg  bull  for  sure,"  said  Mac,  still  peer- 
ing through  the  glasses.  "He  have  plenty  cows 
with  him,  he  no  trabbel  to-night,  we  hunt  him 
early  to-morrow;  mebbe  we  get  good  luck  now; 
mebbe  we  get  grizzly  pretty  soon;  then  we  go 
home  queek." 

That  night  it  grew^  bitterly  cold  and  we  hugged 
close  to  the  old  campfire  as  we  ate  a  very  modest 
meal,  for  w^e  were  already  going  light  on  the  fast 
diminishing  store  of  provisions,  and  it  was  very 
uncertain  when  we  would  reach  our  reserve  stores 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    347 

which  we  had  cached  many  miles  to  the  south. 
The  little  crystal  stars  winked  and  sparkled  out 
of  the  cold  inky  sky  and  looked  down  over  the 
cruel,  trackless  land  where  the  cold  ate  its  way  to 
the  heart  of  the  densest  thickets — famine  and 
death  stalked  hand  in  hand.  Sometimes  the  im- 
placable starHght  would  pale  and  the  sinister 
spectral  flames  of  the  northern  lights  would  go 
dancing  and  wavering  across  the  arch  of  sky,  in 
colors  of  thin  elusive  red,  electric  blue  and  violet. 
Early  morning  found  us  zigzagging  down  the 
mountainside,  for  the  caribou  were  still  loitering 
on  the  higher  slopes  of  the  opposite  hills.  Riding 
across  the  long  stretch  of  willows  that  filled  the 
valley  below,  then  fording  a  swift  glacier  stream, 
we  came  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  we  were  to 
climb.  Here  we  left  the  horses  and  proceeded 
to  make  a  careful  stalk,  which  proved  to  be  rather 
a  lengthy  matter,  as  there  was  no  cover  and  a 
hard  crust  having  formed  over  the  snow  during 
the  night  made  the  going  both  wearisome  and 
noisy.  An  hour  of  difficult  climbing  brought  us 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  animals.  There 
were  several  cows  and  a  large  bull  together,  while 
off  to  one  side  were  two  lesser  bulls.  The  two 
smaller  ones  had  sighted  and  were  eyeing  us  with 
distrust  and  curiosity.     Not  getting  our  wind. 


348  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

and  curiosity  exceeding  caution,  they  came  on 
slowly,  studying  us  carefully  the  while.  Mac  and 
I  remained  absolutely  motionless  until  they  drew 
up  within  about  fifty  yards,  when  I  focused  the 
camera  upon  them  and  recorded  the  scene.  Now 
they  were  thoroughly  alarmed  and  made  off  at 
a  lively  gait.  The  big-eyed,  long-eared  cows 
stood  staring  as  if  they  were  aware  of  some  pend- 
ing danger.  The  old  bull  grew  restless  and  as  he 
caught  sight  of  the  other  bulls  coming  in  his  di- 
rection, must  have  suddenly  suspected  them  of 
interfering  with  his  family  affairs,  and  immedi- 
ately started  off  on  what  appeared  to  be  a  head- 
long rush  for  them. 

Over  the  face  of  the  mountain  swept  the  cari- 
bou— and  on,  strong,  handsome  looking  beasts, 
to  fight  out  the  battle  of  life  and  demands  of 
the  hungry  winter.  But  the  big  fellow's  strug- 
gles were  over,  for  he  lay  quite  still  in  the  snow. 

I  found  him  a  very  good  specimen  of  Osborn's 
caribou,  the  length  of  horn  being  fifty-one  inches 
and  well  furnished  with  points. 

On  the  way  back  to  camp  we  came  upon  a  por- 
cupine, slowly  and  serenely  climbing  a  small 
balsam.  He  allowed  us  to  approach  within  a 
few  feet  and  seemed  to  survey  us  with  an  uncon- 
cerned air  that  said,  "Go  ahead  and  touch  me 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    351 

and  see  how  sorry  you  will  be."  We  had  no  in- 
tention, however,  of  doing  him  any  harm,  but  he 
looked  very  indignant  when  I  snapped  his  pic- 
ture. 

Further  on,  as  we  were  passing  a  small  pond 
of  perhaps  one  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  I 
caught  a  transient  glimpse  of  a  beaver  through 
the  thin  blue  ice,  as  he  darted  into  the  tunnel 
which  led  to  his  house.  This  low-domed  house 
(which  looked  very  much  like  the  house  our 
musk-squash  builds)  was  built  of  mud,  turf  and 
sticks  cleverly  interwoven,  and  rising  about  three 
or  four  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  ice.  At 
one  end  of  the  pond  they  had  their  customary 
dam  as  well  as  a  great  store  of  food,  to  guard 
against  the  winter's  famine.  At  a  point  in  the 
dam  they  had  deposited  this  food  supply,  which 
consisted  chiefly  of  willow  branches  cut  into  con- 
venient lengths.  At  feeding  time  one  slips  out 
of  the  house  and  swims  down  through  the  pale 
amber  water  to  the  brush  pile,  selects  a  suitable 
stick  and  returns  to  dine  on  its  tender  bark.  And 
so  all  through  the  long,  savage  winter,  the  little 
chaps  live,  play  and  feed, — all  below  the  frozen 
upper  world. 

The  beavers  are  not  without  their  enemies, 
however,  and  perhaps  the  most  feared  is  that 


352  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

long,  squat,  shambling  animal,  with  a  triangular 
head  and  two  cruel,  leering  eyes — the  wolverine 
or  glutton.  With  just  about  six  rakes  of  his  ras- 
cally claws  he  could  demolish  the  entire  house, 
but  presto !  the  little  chaps  whisking  out  into  the 
friendly  water  are  not  to  be  caught  by  such  a 
trick. 

Then  there  were  also  those  gray  drifting 
shadows  that  lurked  near  the  pond  when  the  little 
chaps  were  busy  in  the  spring  repairing  the  dam 
— those  round-e3"ed,  moon-faced  lynxes,  gaunt 
with  famine  after  the  scourge  of  winter,  which 
come  stealing  on  soft-padded  feet  and  bellies  to 
the  snow,  just  within  springing  distance.  The 
wary  sentinel  beaver  bringing  down  his  wide  flat 
tail  on  the  water  with  a  loud  "smack" — a  signal 
to  every  beaver  to  vanish  beneath  the  shining  sur- 
face. 

In  the  morning  we  rode  to  the  north,  and  a 
more  wildly  desolate,  oppressively  isolated,  cold, 
deathless  tract  cannot  be  imagined.  The  wind 
had  swept  the  northern  slopes  bare  of  snow  and 
piled  it  deep  in  their  age-eaten  seams.  Far  be- 
low from  almost  a  sheer  drop,  looked  up  a  val- 
ley, studded  with  balsam  and  other  stunted 
growths,  while  a  little  stream  glistening  in  the 
sun,  wriggled  on  its  way.    Across  the  yawning 


A  porcupine  climbing  a  balsam  tree. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    355 

dip  and  borne  over  the  endless  sea  of  white- 
topped  peaks,  came  the  arctic  winds  that  bit  and 
stabbed  like  the  driven  nail. 

We  rode  on ;  Mac  had  not  spoken  all  the  morn- 
ing ;  in  fact  we  held  little  talk  these  last  few  days. 
His  expression  was  grave,  serious;  had  we  dog- 
team  and  snow-shoes  we  could  have  laughed  at 
it  all.  The  time  had  long  since  come  to  depart, 
but  that  outer  garment  of  a  grizzly  I  had  not. 
Soon  the  bear  would  begin  their  long  winter 
sleep  and  then  all  hope  would  vanish. 

INIac  was  holding  out  one  hand,  thumb  down, 
the  signal  to  dismount,  which  we  both  did.  What 
a  print  it  was,  made  that  night, — "My  grizzly 
bear!"  I  said  aloud,  "by  all  that's  fair  and  right; 
I  have  already  earned  him.'*  Mac  said  just  one 
word  as  we  took  up  the  trail:  "Mebbe." 

For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  it  led  over  the  ridge, 
then  took  a  long  curve  and  doubled  back.  After 
a  few  more  twists  it  led  directly  down  the  steep 
drop  to  the  valley.  Mac  looked  down  and  shook 
his  head.  "We  stay  here  two  hours  and  watch 
with  glasses,"  he  suggested,  for  he  thought  the 
bear  was  down  in  the  covert  and  might  emerge 
at  any  time,  and  by  watching  from  this  point  of 
vantage  we  could  make  a  good  stalk  if  he  ap- 
peared. 


356  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

In  a  little  pocket  we  took  up  our  watch  and 
were  thankful  for  the  partial  shelter  which  it 
afforded  from  the  savagery  of  the  wind.  We 
took  turns  scanning  every  bit  of  the  surrounding 
country.  Slow  minutes  dropped  by — an  hour 
passed — then  two.  I  was  growing  too  painfully 
cold  to  remain  inactive  much  longer,  and  on 
finishing  a  frugal  lunch  told  Mac  so. 

For  a  few  minutes  ]Mac  sat  in  silence,  formulat- 
ing, no  doubt,  some  new  plan.  The  air  rang 
hollow  as  it  does  on  these  intensely  cold,  clear 
days;  nothing  moved — there  was  no  sign  of  a 
living  thing.  It  seemed  that  few  creatures  of 
the  northern  wilderness  had  the  fortitude  to  face 
the  polar  wind  that  blew  keen  as  an  icicle,  but  re- 
mained in  their  lairs  under  rock  and  in  the  densest 
fir  thickets,  waiting  for  the  rigor  of  the  cold  and 
wind  to  abate. 

Then  it  was — while  Mac  was  still  devising 
some  new  plan,  I  focused  my  glasses  across  the 
gully  and  made  out  on  the  opposite  mountainside 
a  herd  of  caribou.  Among  them  stood  a  bull, 
and  unless  the  light,  or  my  glasses,  were  deceiv- 
ing me,  he  surpassed  by  far  any  that  had  yet 
met  our  view.  "I  see  a  very  fine  old  caribou,"  I 
said  to  Mac.  He  then  took  the  glasses  and  care- 
fully looked  him  over.    "He  plenty  beeg  horns, 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    359 

best  one  we  ebber  see.  I  no  think  we  make  it ;  too 
long  climb,  too  rough,  long  time  dark  we  get 
back  to  camp."  Then  he  added,  "You  tell  me 
all  right,  we  try  it."  Anything  to  break  that 
monotonous  cold  watching  and  get  a  little 
warmth  in  my  skin. 

Accordingly  we  started;  the  stalk  resolved  it- 
self into  a  long,  dangerous  and  rapid  descent  to 
the  valley;  then  a  most  arduous  climb  up  the 
equally  steep  opposite  mountain.  With  the  skill 
and  ease  of  a  goat  INIac  was  scaling  the  steep 
heights  while  I  never  could  seem  to  quite  close 
the  little  gap  between  us.  Nearly  spent,  I  was 
just  cresting  the  last  twenty  feet  that  would 
bring  me  on  top  when  I  noticed  INIac's  signal  to 
hurry.  For  an  hour  I  had  longed  for  that  mo- 
ment when  I  would  reach  the  top,  and  thought 
how  sweet  that  rest  would  be;  but  now  it  was 
plain  there  was  to  be  no  resting. 

At  last  reaching  more  level  ground,  we  ran  in 
a  stooping  position  behind  a  fringe  of  rocks, 
making  a  long  semi-circle,  then  stopped.  Pres- 
ently over  the  ridge,  and  only  a  few  yards  away 
came  a  damp,  twitching  nose,  and  the  wide  search- 
ing eyes  of  a  cow.  I  showed  a  little  more  cap 
over  the  friendly  rock,  and  with  a  stamp  and  a 
snort  the  big  bull  that  had  been  feeding  a  hundred 


360  BIG   GAME    FIELDS 

yards  to  the  right  was  off  with  that  beautiful, 
effortless,  free  action  which  is  the  heritage  of  his 
kind. 

At  the  first  report  he  continued  on,  as  if  un- 
touched, but  on  firing  the  second  time  he  was 
plainly  in  trouble,  and  a  moment  later  toppled 
over  and  lay  motionless  in  a  small  swale.  He 
was  a  magnificent  specimen  with  forty  points, 
while  the  horns  were  heavy  and  handsomely 
formed. 

It  was  by  this  time  getting  far  along  in  the 
afternoon.  The  evening  sun  descending  burned 
its  way  along  the  heavens.  Great  clouds  were 
rolling  up  to  the  north  as  we  slowly  packed  our 
splendid  trophy  campward.  As  the  gloom  deep- 
ened at  the  approach  of  twilight  the  darkness  fell 
thicker  and  thicker ;  then  as  the  wind  sang  softly 
to  the  night  we  could  feel  snow  flakes  whirling 
against  our  faces. 

The  next  three  days  we  were  storm-bound. 
Those  were  long  dreary  days  up  there,  where  the 
hammering  gale  knew  no  bounds.  The  snows 
deepened,  firewood  grew  scarce,  and  when  at 
dusk  the  whine  of  the  wind  died  with  the  day, 
it  was  replaced  by  the  wail  of  the  ravening  wolf 
pack  that  haunted  the  mountain  again. 

Mac  and  I  were  of  the  opinion  that  the  great 


Mac   sighting  the   grizzly   on    the   opp;)oite  mountain. 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    363 

track  we  had  seen  in  the  snow  belonged  to  an 
old  silver-tip  who  was  spending  his  last  few  days 
before  denning  up,  digging  ground  hogs  on  the 
bare  sides  of  the  range  to  the  north  of  us.  Fur- 
ther we  argued  that,  weather  permitting,  we 
stood  a  reasonable  chance  of  "meeting  him,"  as 
Mac  put  it.  We  would  have  at  least  one  more 
try,  we  agreed,  if  the  storm  would  cease,  and  on 
the  third  day  it  did. 

Early  on  the  morning  that  followed  Mac  and 
I  rode  to  the  north.  Even  the  horses  shrank 
from  the  incalculably  cold  wind  that  swept  over 
the  endless  sheeted  procession  of  snow.  The  end 
had  come.  This  was  the  last  day  of  the  hunt. 
Now  or  never,  I  told  myself,  as  I  jammed  down 
my  hat  and  threw  a  glance  at  the  old  rifle.  The 
morning  was  still  j^oung  when  we  rode  to  the 
edge  of  the  vast  basin.  Dismounting  we  looked 
down  into  the  lower  world,  dark,  forsaken  and 
empty.  Nothing  seemed  astir,  but  a  great  ghost- 
gray  bird  that  floated  over  the  thickets  far  below. 
It  was  a  giant  snowy  owl,  an  estray  from  the 
polar  north,  driven  down,  no  doubt,  by  storm  and 
famine,  from  his  bleak  arctic  wastes.  Straight 
across  on  the  white,  scarred  face  of  the  mountain 
the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  were  crawling. 
Swiftly   the   horizon  leaped  into  blaze,   which 


364  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

spread  down  the  mountainside,  bathing  the  whole 
range  in  a  rose-tinted  glow. 

Something  moved  up  on  the  bald  face  of  the 
mountain — I  saymoved — for  the  gait  of  a  grizzly 
is  all  his  very  own.  There  was  no  need  of  chang- 
ing our  position,  for  with  the  glasses  we  could  see 
he  was  shambling  down  the  mountain,  and  the 
wind  was  strong  from  his  direction.  From  time 
to  time  the  prowler  would  stop,  raise  his  head 
and  with  instructed  nostrils  question  the  air  cur- 
rents, listen  intently  with  cocked  ears  and  shamble 
on  again.  Down  into  the  valley  he  passed, 
through  the  low  growing  firs  and  willows,  then 
crossing  the  stream  he  came  on  up  the  bold  slopes 
where  the  winds  had  bared  their  sides  of  snow. 

About  five  hundred  yards  below  and  to  one 
side  he  stopped.  "He  dig  him  ground  hog,"  said 
]Mac.  Then,  without  removing  the  glasses,  he 
asked,  as  if  prompted  b}^  the  size  of  that  old 
grizzly,  "How  many  cartridges  yo  bring  to-day?" 
"Thirteen,"  I  said.  He  turned  and  looked  hard 
at  me.  I  was  wondering  if  he  bore  the  super- 
stitution  of  the  white  man.  "^lebbe  you  need  a 
coui)le  more,"  he  replied,  as  he  produced  two  from 
his  pocket. 

]Mac  shut  up  the  glasses,  drew  his  belt  up  a 


NORTHERN    GAME    TRAILS    367 

hole,  slid  his  hand  over  the  sheath  of  his  long 
knife,  and  said  two  words:    "We  go." 

As  swiftly  as  the  uncertain  footing  permitted, 
we  dropped  down  the  mountain  side  on  a  long 
slant.  Then  up  along  a  fringe  of  rocks  that  of- 
fered excellent  cover  for  the  final  stalk.  At 
seventy  yards  we  stopped.  The  grizzly  was  busi- 
ly engaged  digging  his  breakfast  and  had  made  a 
hole  large  and  deep  enough  to  hide  his  head  and 
shoulders.  While  thus  engaged  it  was  impossible 
to  get  a  sight  at  a  vulnerable  point.  But  know- 
ing his  custom  of  suddenly  stopping  short  in  his 
work  and  carefully  scanning  his  surroundings,  I 
waited  for  that  moment  to  arrive. 

Sullen  and  ponderous  he  was  mumbling  over 
his  expected  meal  in  that  uncouth  solitude. 

Then  that  moment  arrived — the  mauser  flashed, 
and  with  a  "woof"  of  rage  he  charged  straight 
for  us  and  closed  in  about  half  the  distance,  with 
a  miraculous  speed  of  action,  as  of  a  mighty 
spring  unloosed. 

The  second  shot  in  the  chest  staggered  him,  but 
did  not  stop  him.  With  a  roar  of  rage  and  pain 
he  came  on,  bringing  his  jaw^s  together  the  while 
with  a  hollow  chop. 

I  could  see  the  hair  over  his  shoulder  standing 
erect.     His  little  eyes  shone  fiendishly  red — like 


368  BIG    GAME    FIELDS 

rubies  with  fire  behind  them.  Then  Mac  spoke, 
"Take  yo  time — shoot  his  head — you  neber  hab  a 
better  chance."  There  was  no  doubting  his  words. 
The  third  shot  got  him  squarely  between  the  ears, 
and  a  600-pound  grizzly,  measuring  seven  feet 
from  tip  to  tip,  lay  still  in  death — not  twenty 
paces  away. 

Four  days  later  we  picked  up  our  reserve 
stores,  and  each  day  found  us  early  and  late  hit- 
ting the  trail  south  to  Telegraph  Creek.  One 
morning  we  arose,  it  was  to  be  the  last  day  on  the 
trail.  Big  snow  flakes  were  whirhng  in  the  air, 
busily  weaving  a  thick  blanket  over  all  those  vast 
reaches.  The  little  folk  of  the  snow  had  donned 
their  white  dress  and  went  about  noiseless  and 
inconspicuous.  Winter  and  silence  shut  down 
over  all  that  great  land. 

Before  making  the  long  descent  to  Telegraph 
Creek  we  paused  at  a  point  that  held  a  command- 
ing view.  Looking  back  over  the  limitless  vistas 
I  said  aloud  that  in  some  way  made  even  the 
stolid  Indians  appear  as  grave  as  if  a  prayer 
were  being  said:  "Farewell  to  thee,  oh  wondrous 
mountains,  with  endless  peak  and  crest;  to  sleep 
now,  wrapped  in  your  snows,  all  through  the  bit- 
ter, inimicable  cold  of  the  terrible  winter." 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     001  149  829     2 


